Clearing Skies
by Calger
Summary: After seventeen years Sano finally returns to Tokyo to meet up with old friends, and finds a newcomer to the Kamiya dojo he hadn't expected. Post Jinchuu, manga canon.
1. There and Back Again

_Clearing Skies_  
by Calger459 

Chapter 1: There and Back Again

Author's quick intro: Sanosuke's eventual return to Japan after the conclusion of the manga has been a plotbunny hopping merrily around the inside of my skull since before I went to Japan…so for a long time now. In an attempt to combat the rut my muse has fallen into lately, I decided to finally write it down. This is going to be a fic starring primarily Sano, Kenji and Yahiko, with the rest of the Tokyo-gumi thrown in for extra spice.

Timeline note: This fic is separate from Prism, i.e. it follows primarily manga canon. In this story, Prism never happened. That pretty much rules out the events of An Inn in Hokkaido too, but that won't factor into this fic anyway so it's a moot point really. Okay, we good with that? Great.

Spoiler warnings: Just as with my other fics, I'm assuming you've read through the whole manga series. If not, go read Maigo-chan's fantastic translations or read the Shonen Jump graphic novels being put out by VIZ. No major spoilers this chapter, but I'm sure there'll be others later. You have been forewarned.

Disclaimer: Sanosuke, Kenshin and co. are copyright all the various rights holders in Japan and the USA including Nobuhiro Watsuki, Sony TV, and VIZ Communications. This story is for entertainment only, I'm definitely not making money from it, so there.

All right, now that that's out of the way…On with the fic!

* * *

_Meiji 28_

The tiny passenger ship rocked wildly against the sea, leaning sickeningly from side to side in the strong summer wind. Most of the passengers had long since retreated below decks, too nauseous to even think of straying far from what passed for toilet facilities on the rickety vessel. Only one person seemed unaffected; a tall, wiry Japanese man slumped against the side railing. He hardly noticed the motion of the ship. After all, he'd been at sea almost constantly for the past several months.

He yawned lazily and stared out over the endless expanse of water. It was taking him a lot longer than he'd anticipated getting back to Japan. It had been months since he'd left the southern coast of China. At first he'd made good progress towards home, and he'd figured he'd be back in Tokyo within three months, tops, just in time for a few New Year's parties with his old gambling buddies, presuming they were still around. It had been a good plan, but as with nearly everything else he did in his life, he'd hit a few snags along the way.

"Sir!" A man, one of the crew, called from a doorway behind him. "It's getting very rough, please come down to the passenger hold!"

After so many years traveling mainland Asia, he understood the man's heavily accented Chinese perfectly. But he was quite content where he was. He ignored the crewman.

"Sir!"

"Leave me alone," he grumbled in his native Japanese, shooting a warning glare at the sailor, who was less than half his size. After a tense few seconds the tiny man hastily retreated.

He returned to his musings. He supposed that, really, his brilliant travel plans had been doomed from the start. He tended to take that sort of thing stride, however. When one was a "professional" traveler—he couldn't repress a sarcastic chuckle at the thought—one learned to improvise. So while getting arrested in Singapore had been inconvenient, and their prison surprisingly hard to escape from, he hadn't let the delay bother him too much. Even his "borrowed" escape ship sinking off the coast of Taiwan, and his subsequent capture and interrogation by the authorities, had been an acceptable delay. He'd been in enough prisons in his life, what was one more? However, if there was one thing Sagara Sanosuke hated above all else it was getting lost, and he'd wandered the entirety of Taiwan for nearly a month, pursued by cops the entire time, before he'd finally found a Japan-bound ship to stow away on.

He'd thought he was home free then. But nooooo, there had to be that _one_ guy on the boat who hadn't liked his face and squealed to the crew. That had led to a number of…_unfortunate _incidents, and he'd found himself dumped on a random island in Okinawa. It'd taken _weeks_ to get passage from there. He smiled ruefully. _Story of my life._ At least he was finally on the last leg of his journey. From here it was a clear shot to Japan.

Despite the summer season the ocean winds were cold. He shivered slightly and pulled his worn travel cloak more tightly around his shoulders. Anyone looking closely at it would have quickly realized that it hadn't started life as one. Although it was gray with age and very frayed around the edges, it was nevertheless clearly recognizable as a retooled white hanten jacket. On the back was a faded kanji character, and the other Japanese passengers had immediately given him a wide berth once they'd recognized it. He smiled grimly. It really was a useful thing at times, having the kanji for "wicked" on your back. It had served him well on many occasions.

His expression grew somber with that train of thought. There had been a time, long ago, when being ignored and avoided would have seriously rankled him. He had lived to fight, and as a result he'd had far more enemies than friends. He had never seen this as a problem. If he didn't fight, then he couldn't get stronger and avenge his taichou's death. He had actively sought out encounters with others; the tougher and more violent, the better. No, solitude had certainly never been his goal in his youth; ironic that nowadays he preferred it. After nearly twenty years of traveling and dealing with people of every description, he had to admit that he was burned out. He was thoroughly sick of the company of strangers.

The wind shifted and the long ends of his tattered red headband, soaked with sea spray, flapped wetly into his face. He flicked them away and ran his fingers through his spiky hair…and winced when it crunched audibly under his fingers. _Oh that's nasty. Must be all the sea salt in the air. That's it, first thing in Yokohama I'm getting a bath._ Resting his chin on his hands, he peered grumpily out over the water. How'd he let his thoughts get so dark anyway? That sure wasn't like him. _I may be getting older, but I'm too damn young still to be brooding like this. Pathetic._

Then he saw it, far in the distance, the very top of Mt. Fuji rising above a strip of land that had appeared on the horizon. His mood lifted immediately. _I'm almost home._ Closing his eyes briefly, he let the old memories wash over him like a pleasant balm. Images of his friends, of a young, pony-tailed kendoist and an enigmatic red-haired swordsman, sadness clouding his dark violet eyes.

_Kenshin. Kaoru. You'd better still be in Tokyo._ He watched the shoreline steadily become larger and more detailed. He felt nervous and tense all of a sudden, even though Yokohama was still many hours off. It had been so long since he'd talked to anyone in Japan. Although he'd done his best to write letters to them over the years, his wandering lifestyle had made it impossible for them to answer back. Even after all this time, he had no idea how they were, and that worried him. _The last time I actually saw them was on that little dock in Tokyo seventeen years ago. I can't believe it's been that long…I really should have sent a letter saying I was coming home. Oh well. If there's one thing I'm good at, it's rude surprises._ A mischievous grin lit up his tanned, weathered features and he pushed away from the railing. He shoved his hands in his pockets and yawned. _Damn, now that I've brooded I'm hungry. Wonder where I can get some grub on this floating rat trap?_

* * *

Sano stepped gratefully off the end of the gangplank, his stomach growling loudly. _No food on the whole ship, **none**. Barbarians._ He closed his eyes and breathed in the heavy summer air. The wonderful sound of Japanese filled the air around him, and the scent of familiar foods drifted to him from just beyond the docks. _I'm home._

Grinning, he hoisted his travel bag over his shoulder and waded into the crowd. As usual his line of sight hovered well above the Japanese around him; he'd always been unusually tall for his people. He was surprised though to find himself looking at the brightly colored heads of literally dozens of foreigners fighting the crowd with him. That certainly hadn't been the case when he'd left; while the number of gaijin had been growing every year since the start of Meiji, he'd never seen them this numerous. _Not sure if this is a good thing or a bad thing. Hopefully though people will stop staring at Kenshin all the damn time as if he were some kind of freak…_

Stepping off to the side of the crowd for a moment, he tried to get his bearings. He had only been to Yokohama a handful of times, and the layout of cities often changed whenever there was a major fire or other disaster. He wasn't sure what direction Tokyo was in from here. The only thing he knew for sure is that the train went there; if he found the tracks, he could follow it to Tokyo without getting lost.

He leaned back against a wall as he considered this and stared around at his former home. Aside from the foreigners, everything was just as he remembered. There were the noodle, souvenir and sweets shops he was so fond of, and all the Japanese in the crowd were still dressed in the familiar kimono he'd grown up with. The only exceptions were a few guys wearing English bowler hats atop their traditional outfits, which he found just plain silly-looking, along with a small group of women spinning around in front of the large glass window of an import shop, admiring their tight-fitting Western dresses. He found himself frowning ever so slightly. He didn't have any particular issue with Western culture (well, except for trains), but it disturbed him to see it taking over his home country. _I wonder if it's just Yokohama, or if it's everywhere now?_ He wasn't sure why, but the idea just didn't sit right with him.

Sano's stomach growled insistently. "Yeah, yeah," he muttered to it. He spied an udon shop across the street and he wove his way toward it, sliding efficiently through the random movements of the crowd. It was only when he was inside that he remembered he had no Japanese currency on him. _Awww crap._

"Irrashaimase!" the shop owner greeted with a broad smile. "Have a seat! What'll it be?"

"Well…uh…" Sano fished out his wallet and shook it. There wasn't much in it. "I don't suppose you take Chinese currency?"

The man's face fell. "Afraid not sir, you'll have to head up to the currency exchange."

"I just got in, where—"

"Two streets up, go left at the tanuki statue, head north toward the white Western-style building. It'll be on your right across the street; the exchange's painted black."

Sano blinked internally. _Ugh…directions._ "Um…thanks."

Back out in the street he blinked in the bright sunlight that had broken through early morning fog. He knew already that there was absolutely no hope of him finding the exchange on his own. Hell, he'd already forgotten the bit after the tanuki statue, but without money he couldn't even get his bath, much less breakfast. Stepping back into the flow of the crowd he let himself get pushed forward with flow of bodies. He thought furiously of what to do. _I could try to convince someone to guide me to the exchange I guess…_

Then it hit him and he nearly smacked himself. _Duh, the Akabeko! Still have a tab there._

"_Oh, there's no need to pay now Sanosuke-san. You can just pay your tab back later…with interest!"_

Sano winced at the memory. _Oooh boy, I wonder what seventeen years' interest is. Tae's gonna kill me. That is, if I ever make it there._ Sighing, he broke off from the crowd again and ducked into a sandal-maker's shop. "Hey there, which way is to the train station that goes to Tokyo?"

* * *

It was just as Sano remembered it: a long, slightly crumbling tiled wall running alongside a small river. Soon he'd be at the Kamiya dojo, presuming it was still standing. It had been a long, hot, dusty walk from Yokohama along the tracks. He'd surprised himself with his memory of the route once he'd entered the city. He'd actually made it here without getting too lost. He'd nearly dropped in at the Akabeko, which to his relief was still here, but the threat of Tae's interest charge, which he was certain she had _not_ forgotten about, made him think twice. _I'd be better off getting Jou-chan to buy dinner for me. She'll do it; after all, it's only polite to feed a guest._ He ignored the continued growling of his stomach and concentrated instead on the cicadas humming away deafeningly in the trees around him. In his youth that sound had always annoyed him; now it was strangely comforting. _After all, those damn bugs don't live anywhere else but here. I guess I kinda missed 'em._ He smiled. _I really am home._

His expression darkened suddenly. _Damn it, what if the dojo's not even here anymore? Maybe someone bought it out from under them finally, or it burned down and they had to move somewhere else. I should have checked in at the Akabeko; they could be in Kyoto for all I know. Crap, I'm an idiot._ He'd been able to think of little else since getting off the boat in Yokohama, and he couldn't wait to arrive at the dojo so he could stop _worrying_ already. He knew he should have made _some_ effort to find out his friends' condition, but he hadn't really been able to, practically speaking. He scowled and scrubbed absently at his hair. _Shit, I gotta stop deluding myself like this._

He knew the real reason, the stupid immature truth; that after leaving home he'd realized just how sheltered and restricted he'd felt in the shadow of Kenshin's selfless protection. He respected Kenshin, hell he'd even _die_ for him if it came to that, but the guy was just too damn good. There was no way Sano could ever match him in skill, and he knew that the older swordsman would always want to protect him. It was his nature; even if Sano had been as strong as Saitou, Kenshin would still have felt obligated to play the fatherly bodyguard. In the end, it had been too much for the young streetfighter. He'd needed to get away, find his own place in the world and gain respect in the eyes of people who wouldn't always be measuring him against the legendary Battousai. His feelings had seemed so logical at the time, but now he could see what a stupid, ungrateful ass he'd been. In his quest to find himself he'd nearly forgotten his only true friends, his _family_ really, if you looked at it like that. He'd managed the occasional letter, sure, and even a souvenir when he had the money, but that was all. _Well, what's done is done I suppose. Damn it Kenshin, you'd better still be alive._

He rounded the corner and for a moment stood in the shade of the cherry trees, almost afraid to look. Steeling himself, he looked to where the dojo entrance should be, and let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. There it was, a welcome and familiar sight even after all these years. Sano felt himself smile, relief washing over him. Not only was the dojo still here, as he drew closer he saw other welcome changes. The school sign was very new-looking, the kanji no longer painted on in cracked and faded ink but inlaid deeply into the wood. All of the roof tiles were in good repair, the entrance was swept clear, and not a crack showed in the plaster wall. Beyond the wall he could see a little bit of the roof of the house, and many of its tiles were also shiny and new-looking. The whole place now carried the sparkle of money, a drastic change from when he'd last seen it. _Huh, I hope they haven't become rich snobs or something._

Sano came to a stop in front of the closed gate. For a long moment, he hesitated. Then he gave himself a swift mental kick to the head. _For the love of Kami man, this is stupid. What, are you becoming soft in your middle age?_ "No way in hell," he growled, and he slid the gate open, striding inside without hesitation just as he used to. Once over the threshold he stopped again with a mental blink. _The door was unlocked. Someone must be home._ He looked around immediately for Kenshin, but there was no sign of the diminutive swordsman. In fact the dojo was eerily silent. Even the cicadas seemed to have quieted down, and not so much as a leaf stirred in the packed dirt of the swept courtyard. Out of the corner of his eye, Sano thought he saw a sudden flash of movement on the roof, but when he looked there was nothing. He frowned and carefully scanned the buildings, the hairs on his neck standing on end. _Something's not right here. I'm being watched._ "Hello?" he called out, eyes darting around to every possible hiding spot in the place; which were many, he admitted to himself. "Anyone home?"

Silence. But the air nearly crackled with tension and Sano slowly moved toward the house, stepping under the slight overhang of the porch roof. He walked forward as casually as he could manage, trying to seem oblivious to any danger. _They're hiding on the roof._ He headed for the corner of the house and as he did so he flexed his bandaged right hand inside his trouser pocket. _Never did learn to use the _Futae no Kiwami_ with a knife like that old monk, but it's still deadly enough. If you've hurt them, you bastard, you aren't going to live to regret it. The question is who will strike first, me or you?_ He heard the faintest of noises from directly above. It was all the warning he needed. Sano leapt out into the open, fist swinging up over his head. A streak of white and blue came blurring down to meet it from the edge of the roof, emitting a shrill battle cry that made even Sano's heart skip a beat. The blur whipped out a weapon and Sano's fist drove into a chunk of solid metal; it exploded into powder and shards. The blur cried out sharply in surprise and then was gone.

Sano dove sideways and spun, barely managing to duck the long shaft of wood that came flying at his head. _Shit, he's fast._ Sano tried to get a look at his attacker, but the rapid blur had vanished yet again. Then he sensed the air shift abruptly behind him. Kenshin would be proud of the battle reflexes he'd honed over the years, he thought distractedly as he drop-spun and kicked out. His foot struck a glancing blow against a chest and he heard a pained grunt from his opponent. _Heh, fast but not fast enough it seems._ The blur streaked away around the corner of the house and Sano ran after it. He cursed when he found nothing waiting for him. _What the fuck is this!?_ "Hey you bastard, come back here! Or are you some kind of coward, sneaking around on roofs like a thief?" He almost regretted the insult when he suddenly found himself being showered with roof tiles. _Crap!_ In a flurry of feet and fists Sano shattered the tiles before they could get to him. He made sure to look beyond them, though. Experience told him the tiles were merely a distraction, not a true attack. And he was right; in the next instant his opponent came off the roof with what looked like a hammer in his hand. For a long, drawn-out second Sano looked into the other's face…and found himself doing a bit of a double-take. He spoke without thinking. "Kenshin?"

His opponent's bright blue eyes widened slightly, but he didn't alter his angle of attack. Sano leapt backward and his opponent landed where he had been, hammer raised two-handed like a sword, eyes blazing with fury. Without another second's hesitation he launched himself at Sano. The former streetfighter blocked the hammer with his arm, roughly suppressing instincts which told him to follow through and turn the weapon on his enemy. Sano twisted the shaft of the hammer away, throwing the other off-balance and opening some space between them. "Whoa, wait a sec, stop! I'm a friend, dammit!"

The boy—who Sano could now see was definitely _not_ Kenshin—remained where he was. He was breathing heavily, but Sano could tell it was from anger, not fatigue. His opponent readied his weapon again, nearly snarling in rage. "Friend?!" he spat, his voice high and boyish. "Friends don't come barging into people's homes uninvited!" Sano opened his mouth to answer but the boy was already coming at him again, swinging the hammer like a bokken. _Sheesh, I should have known from the fighting style alone. He's not half bad but—_ Sano dove past him, grabbing the head of the tool and twisting it deftly out of the boy's grasp. —_he's still got a ways to go before he matches his old man in skill._ Sano felt a smirk tug at the corner of his mouth. _So you finally got it together, eh Kenshin? Those are Kaoru's eyes too, or I'm not a member of the Sekihoutai._

Sano propped the hammer on his shoulder and eyed his opponent with amusement. "When those 'friends' are me, they do." He grinned. "Your mom could tell you that much. Nice toy you got here." He bounced the head of the hammer against his shoulder. "What were you doing, fixing the roof?"

The boy blinked in surprise briefly before suddenly vanishing. Sano automatically dropped to the ground, and he felt the brush of fingers against the hammer. _Oh no you don't._ Sano shot off to the right, away from the protection of the house. The boy followed, nothing but a blur, and with a tremendous leap he latched onto Sano's back, grappling for the hammer. _Oh **honestly**._ With a surge of strength Sano flipped over in mid-stride, pinning the boy beneath him when they crashed to the ground. Sano didn't wait for the boy to get his bearings. With almost brutal swiftness he flipped himself over and hauled the gasping boy upright, twisting his arms around behind him in a vice hold and planting a foot firmly in the middle of the boy's back. He pushed ever so slightly, applying what he knew was very painful pressure to the kid's arms, and for a moment he let his opponent squirm. "You done yet, kiddo?"

In a display of spirit that didn't surprise Sano in the least, the boy craned his head around and fixed a furious blue eye on him, teeth bared in a snarl. "What the hell do you want?"

Sano blinked before he could stop himself; he wasn't sure what he'd expected from Kenshin's son, but this blatant disrespect hadn't been it. _Well, I guess that means the kid's somewhat normal._ "I'd love to answer that, but we can't really have a decent conversation like this. I'm not here for a fight, boy; I told you that already."

The kid actually spat at him, eyes blazing with an almost demonic brilliance. Sano considered this in silence, meeting the boy's gaze calmly. "You know, kid, now I _really_ know you're not your dad. He would never leap into a fight so recklessly. And really, didn't _any_ of his politeness rub off on you?" He saw confusion flicker briefly through the other's eyes, and the boy's body relaxed just a fraction. _It's now or never._ "Look, there's a lot of ways we could do this, but here's what I prefer." Sano abruptly let go of the boy and stepped back. He left the hammer on the ground where it had fallen.

The boy's reaction was swift and decisive; he snatched up the hammer and sank back down into an attack stance, keeping his hawklike gaze trained on Sano. Several moments of tense silence passed, and Sano could see the boy was thinking furiously. He took the time to study his friend's son. He noted, not with a little pride, that the boy was the spitting image of Kenshin, or at least what Sano imagined he must have looked like when he was a teenager. There were some obvious differences between them though, aside from the lack of distinctive scars. The boy's hair was a dark auburn, almost brown, as opposed to his father's bright ember red and his piercing eyes, completely lacking the sad weight his father's carried, were the color of the summer sky, the exact shade of Kaoru's. And that was her fiery temper showing through now in her son, Sano was sure of it. "Well?" he said finally. "You going to attack me again, or can we talk?"

The boy frowned. He didn't lower the hammer. "How do you know my father? What do you want from him?"

_What is **with** this kid?_ "Nothing! I'm an old friend of his, I've been away for a while and I thought I'd pop by. Honest! It's Sagara," he supplied helpfully, trying to fend off the blatant hostility pouring from the boy. "Sagara Sanosuke."

The boy looked him up and down for a long moment. Then slowly, warily, he stepped back. However, he still didn't lower his makeshift weapon. Sano grinned wryly. _So he **was** fixing the roof. How domestic. And he still won't lower his guard; he's been well-trained._

Sano smiled at the boy, hoping to calm him a bit. "I'm not gonna bite kid, I swear. So where is Kenshin, anyway? They at the Akabeko or something?"

"No." The boy relaxed a little more, but Sano could tell he wasn't out of danger yet. He began to get an uneasy feeling. What had happened in the years he was gone that would require Kenshin's son to have such fierce, protective caution? "Sagara-san…was it?" Sano could tell the boy added the honorific only grudgingly. "I've heard that name before. Father's mentioned you."

Inwardly, Sano sagged in relief. "Oh, well that's good." _It means he's probably still alive._ "So you can lower that hammer then, can't you? Heh, so I was right, you _were_ fixing the roof."

Sano swore the other's eye twitched. "My parents asked me to."

"Ah. So what, they went out of town or something? And they left you here by yourself? No offense, but you seem a little young for that. Surely they didn't take Yahiko with 'em too?"

"I'm old enough," the boy said pointedly. But Sano could see curiosity in his eyes. "You know Yahiko-san?"

"Know him? I practically helped raise that kid! What's he up to nowadays?"

"Teaching kendo." The boy didn't bother to hide his irritation at the constant questions. "Look, they won't be back until next week. Just come back then. I've got work to do here."

Sano suddenly found himself holding back laughter. _No wait, I take that back. He's **just** like his dad!_ "Oh come on, you're what, fifteen? If that? Nothin's so important that you can't be a decent host to one of your dad's friends. It's either that or I go bother the so-called Great Tokyo Samurai, who'll probably just punt me back here anyway so you might as well show some manners and offer me tea or sake or something. Or did your dad not teach you anything?"

Now the boy was scowling, his hand clenched in a white-knuckled grip around the hammer. "Don't you—how dare you—"

Sano grinned, laughing openly now. "Hey listen, I'm just glad your parents finally managed to get their act together! For a while I was worried they were going to be tiptoeing around each other forever. Seriously, I'm glad to meet you." He gave the other a little half-bow. "I've got no problem waiting until next week, but I'm not leaving without a drink." _Or food,_ he added silently. No sense in pushing his luck at this point. "Your old man owes me that much at least."

"Does he now," the boy said flatly, but there was a trace of something else there and Sano could see that some of the dangerous sharpness had left his gaze. He finally dropped out of stance, resting the hammer's head back against his shoulder just as Sano had done. "Fine then, come on in. I'll see what I can do."

He nodded agreeably. "Thanks kid, I appreciate it."

"I'm not a kid," the boy muttered sullenly, spinning on his heel and marching towards the house. Sano grinned at his back. _Oh, this is gonna be **fun**…_

TBC…

* * *

And it will, too…hopefully. So, Sano and Kenji…a character interaction pairing I haven't seen much of in RK fanfiction. I'm not actually planning to have Kenshin and Kaoru in this story directly until the very end. They'll just be talked about and flashbacked to a few times…not quite sure how many yet. As I mentioned, Yahiko will be in this quite a bit (look for him next chapter). I have a large portion of the next chapter mapped out already, basically setting up the story. I don't have a firm idea of where the plot is going yet, but I'm not too worried. As long as I keep my muse happy I think she'll provide nifty scenes and plot twists for me like she did for "Prism" :D 

Kenji's character: I'm basically running on instinct here, guys. Watsuki-sensei apparently said that Kenji grew up to be a genius with a twisted personality, challenging Yahiko's son for the sakabatou and all kinds of other bratty stuff. I'm not sure I totally agree with that…but I do agree with what some people have done with Kenji in their fanfictions. I look at it like this: basically you who have Kenshin, this very intense, protective and intelligent man and Kaoru, who has a fiery, spontaneous and often violent temper but also a kind and loving heart. Add that together and you get a potentially volatile and dangerous combination…but not necessarily a bad person. I think he's probably a lot like Kenshin before he became hitokiri, only a lot more vocal about his feelings because of Kaoru's traits. Kenji's one of those big unknowns in RK fandom; he's what you want him to be within the bounds of your own imagination and what you understand of his parents' personalities. So whether you agree with my portrayal or not, it only exists within this story and I'm just going with my own logic here. Fair enough? Constructive feedback on him will be read and considered of course, I'm always open to ideas…but I don't think Kenji would be either a super-fluffy wimp or a crazed, power-hungry lunatic (I've seen both of these extremes on ). We'll see how it goes…

So what do you think, guys? Remember, I write this stuff for me…but I love hearing from all of you too. CC is a wonderful thing!! Click that lovely review button! Sorry for the long author notes this time, btw. They'll be a lot shorter (or nearly nonexistent even) next time! Promise!


	2. Legacy

Clearing Skies

By Calger459

Chapter 2: Legacy

Lots of conversation in this chapter; hints are dropped, questions posed and stubbornly not answered. Aren't I mean? Angts-ness abounds. Ahhh, feel the tension mount…

Disclaimer: Sanosuke, Kenshin and co. are copyright all the various rights holders in Japan and the USA including Nobuhiro Watsuki, Sony TV, and VIZ Communications. This story is for entertainment only and I'm definitely not making money from it, so there.

On with the fic!

* * *

It was taking forever for drinks to appear. Sano wondered what on earth the boy was actually _doing_ in the kitchen. _Maybe he's gonna poison my tea or something. He sure wouldn't be the first to try. _He pondered that for a moment. _All right, I've been traveling in cutthroat countries for too long. _

Sano sighed and stretched out his legs under the low table, wincing at the popping sounds his joints made. _Damn, I'm sure not getting any younger. Being, uh…how old am I now? Thirty…six? Yeah. That sucks._ Leaning back on his elbows he craned his neck to look towards the kitchen. "Hey, you okay in there? Need help or anything?"

"I'm fine, thank you," came the distant reply. Sano shrugged and resumed a sitting position, propping his chin on one hand. He glanced out the open shoji and saw that Kenshin's vegetable garden was looking healthier than ever. It had nearly tripled in size since he'd last seen it and was lush with summer growth. Again, Sano felt puzzled. Everything here at the dojo seemed fine. It was by all appearances the home of a peaceful, happy family. Not rich certainly, but not at the edge of poverty, which had been where the dojo was seventeen years ago. _So why's this kid so on edge all the time? Or maybe he's just a brat. I can't see Kenshin and Kaoru putting up with that sort of behavior though. Well, okay…maybe not Kaoru._

The boy finally came in and set down a small tray with a teapot and two steaming cups of green tea. "We don't have sake," he said by way of explanation, seeing Sano's slightly disappointed look.

The traveler shrugged. "Nah, it's cool. So, I still don't know your name."

The boy looked startled, as if he'd only just realized that. "Uh…oh. Sorry." With a sigh he scooted back on his knees and bowed slightly; just enough to be polite, Sano noticed. "Himura Kenji. It's…nice to meet you."

"You don't have to lie, you know. I can tell you don't like me, I'd just like to know why." Sano met Kenji's surprised gaze evenly, resting his chin on folded hands. "Granted, I shouldn't have just barged in here without asking, but I guess it's just force of habit, even after all this time. Still, that was no reason for you to pounce on me. So, out with it. Is this dojo under threat? Have people been after your dad recently?"

The look of utter shock on Kenji's face spoke volumes. "Under…threat? Oh, no, I mean people don't…that was a long time ago! Before I was born." The boy's expression darkened and he looked out at the garden. "Nothing happens around here, really. It's not what you think."

_Ah. So that's it._ "So you're just bored then; I get it."

Kenji looked distinctly embarrassed at this. "Well, I…that is I mean…I'm…sorry. About earlier. I figure, people came here looking for fights in the past. Why not now? And you looked suspicious. No offense," he said, casting Sano a slightly reproving look.

Sano just grinned. "Yeah, I'm a little scruffy. I'll admit it. You can't really blame me though, I did just get into town today."

"From where?" Kenji asked curiously.

"Heh, where do you want me to start from? Okinawa or China?"

Now the boy's eyes were wide. "You've been to China? Really?"

Sano laughed. "Hell yeah, I've been just about everywhere by now. Europe, Asia, America. Never got to Africa, but I hear that place is hotter n' hell anyway. Even worse than here, if you can believe that."

Kenji smiled slightly. "It's hotter in Kyoto."

"Is it? You been there a lot?"

The boy blinked, then glanced hastily away, as if he'd said something he shouldn't have. "Uh…a few times, yeah."

Sano frowned slightly. "What was that look for?"

"What look?"

"The one where you looked guilty as hell." Sano sat forward and peered intently at the boy. "You've got me curious now."

"It's nothing."

The boy's tone was firm, and Sano felt his curiosity rise. "Nothing?"

"Nothing. Forget I said anything."

A very awkward silence fell, broken only by the persistent, ringing whirr of the cicadas outside.

"What happened in Kyoto?"

Kenji shot him a sharp look. "What is it you want, anyway? I gave you tea, shouldn't you be going already?"

Sano only barely resisted a powerful urge to smack the brat senseless. "If you don't mind, I've been gone a while and I'm feeling a bit out of touch. Since you're the only one around, I thought you could fill me in a bit."

"Why? I don't owe you anything."

"You owe me your life."

Kenji's lethal glare took Sano a bit by surprise. "If you think for a minute that I'm afraid of someone like _you_, you're an idiot."

Sano sat up and leveled the boy a hard stare of his own. "Watch your mouth, boy. You don't know a thing about me, or what I'm capable of."

"Same to you," the boy snarled. His posture was rigid as a statue, and the air around him nearly crackled with furious energy. "I'm not weak."

"I never said you were."

"But you were thinking it."

"Don't be ridiculous. That was hardly even a fight back there, it wasn't enough to tell any—" The boy had shot to his feet, his breathing rapid. Sano finished the word in a cautious whisper. "—thing."

"Shut up." Kenji said in a low, shockingly cold voice.

Sano was careful not to move. He searched the boy's face, wondering what on earth had set him off. _Oh yeah, he has Jou-chan's temper all right._ "What did I say? Sit down."

The boy growled quietly, and for a second Sano thought he was going to be attacked. The moment passed quickly though, and he could see the boy was struggling to control himself. After a moment, he slowly sat back down. They sat that way for several moments. Sano waited patiently. _Any moment now, he'll... _ "Earlier," the boy said suddenly. Sano smiled inwardly. "One of the attacks I made…you predicted what I would do and avoided it. As if you'd seen it before."

Sano blinked. "I did?" Kenji looked at him. Sano could still feel the other's anger, but it was buried now under a thoughtful, calculating expression, one the former streetfighter found quite disconcerting. Seeing that kind of look on the boy's face reminded him sharply of Kenshin…and that this was his son he was dealing with now. While Kenshin may have seemed dumb when playing the rurouni, Sano had known better; that under that silly façade was a highly intelligent, strategic mind. If Kenji had even half that amount of brains… _He's looking for something from me. Information. The question is, why? _

"You did. Sanosuke-san, you fought my father, right?"

He raised an eyebrow. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Did you, or didn't you?"

A thought occurred to him, and he quickly suppressed a wicked grin. _Well now, two can certainly play this game._ "Hold on a second, you refuse to tell _me_ anything, but you expect me to dictate my life's story to _you_? That's not how it works, kid." Sano tossed back the rest of his tea in one gulp and put it back down on the tray. He looked at the boy expectantly. They stared at each other for a minute. "Hey, when someone's tea cup is empty, you're supposed to fill it."

"Do it yourself," the boy ground out, the very picture of stubbornness.

"Do it myself…or tell you what you want to know. Right?"

The boy's jaw clenched. Inside, Sano was nearly dancing with glee. _Ah, the battle of wits and wills. Always good clean fun. _"Look kid, I'm equal opportunity. I can always learn what you're not telling me, make fun of you later, and you learn nothing. If the years of traveling have taught me anything, it's patience. Let's scratch each other's backs." Sano gave him a significant look. "Tea."

With a grudging scowl, Kenji refilled the cup. Sano sipped at it slowly. "So, why does it matter if I fought with Kenshin or not?"

"Just answer the question," the boy nearly growled.

"Fine, we'll do this another way. _Who_ told you I'd fought with Kenshin?"

This answer came readily. "Yahiko-san."

"I see." Sano grunted and swirled his tea in his cup, suddenly wishing very much that it was sake. _Or food. Damn it, I'm hungry._ "You know, he shouldn't be talking about things he really doesn't know about."

"He said he was there."

Sano sighed. "Yeah, for half of _one_ of them. That hardly counts."

"So it's true, then." The boy sounded triumphant.

Sano glared, irritated despite himself. "And I'll ask you again, why the hell does it matter? That was ages ago."

"But you remember his moves…don't you?" Kenji was giving him a strangely intent look.

Sano looked at him for a long moment. "Kenji, I'd really like to know what you're getting at here. I didn't come back to fight with your dad."

"So why did you come back?"

"Don't change the subject!" Sano surprised himself with how angry his tone was. _Damn it, I can't let this kid get to me._

Kenji gave him a slightly surprised look, which quickly took on a mischievous glint. _Oh shit. _"Sanosuke-san, have I possibly touched a nerve?"

Sano gritted his teeth. "Okay, kid. Let's make a deal here. We answer each other's questions, up front, no dancing around the point."

"Too broad. You could ask anything that way."

"So what? You have things to hide?"

Kenji was grinning. "Do _you_?"

_I'm SO gonna whip this kid's butt._ "No way! Do we have a deal or what?"

Kenji was clearly considering it. He poured himself another cup of tea and sat back down across from Sano. "You're an interesting person, Sagara Sanosuke. I'll play your game. For now."

"Good. Now, from your questions it seems like you have a desire to kick your dad's butt in a duel. Yes or no?"

Kenji blinked. "Well…I, uh…no!"

"So you already have? Or do you think you're better than he is?"

Kenji frowned. "Sagara-san, it isn't like that."

"No?"

Kenji was silent, apparently struggling with himself, and Sano got the distinct impression that what he said next was_not_ what he'd originally intended. "It's…good that you aren't here to fight him. You wouldn't get much of one."

"What do you mean? Are you saying he doesn't fight now?"

"I've never seen him fight," Kenji confessed quietly, his expression somber.

Sano frowned, slightly incredulous. "You've never seen the Hiten Misturugi for yourself?"

"No. So…what was it like?"

He tried to copy the Ryu-Tsui-Sen earlier. And he knows I recognized it. So where did he learn it? From Yahiko? "It's a bit of hard thing to describe in words, kid. Let's just say I've never seen its equal, in all the years I've traveled."

Kenji nodded slightly, as if that was exactly what he'd expected to hear. He looked up at the former streetfighter, a strangely regretful look on his face. "You are fortunate to have known the Mitsurugi, Sagara-san. I never will."

* * *

"Father, please!"

The cicadas whirred loudly in the silence that stretched across the tatami. Kenji felt his mother's eyes on him, but he ignored her reproving gaze for the moment. All his attention was focused on his father, who knelt across from him with his head bowed, eyes hidden by fiery red bangs. After an eternity, Kenshin spoke. "You know why I can't, Son."

Kenji felt his pulse quicken in anger. "Yes, of course I know _why_!" he snarled furiously. "But you don't understand! I _have_ to learn it. The Kamiya Kasshin just isn't enough." He cast an apologetic glance at his mother, who returned it with one of sadness, an unusual emotion on her normally cheerful face. Kenji wrenched his eyes from the sight. "Not for me."

"Kenji, the Mitsurugi caused me nothing but misery. I will not bring the same fate on others. But even more than that…my style does not belong in the Meiji. It's time has passed."

"How can you say that?" Kenji demanded. "You should know better than anyone how quickly peaceful times can change! Maybe the Mitsurugi brought you pain, but in the end it has saved a hundred times more lives than it's taken!"

Kenshin looked up now, violet eyes hard and bright. "It's too easy to misuse, Kenji. I've told you this before. You don't know—"

"What, what it's capable of? How much power it represents? I'm not naive, Father. I understand the risks. You hesitate because you think that I'll make your mistakes, that I'll become hitokiri or something even worse. Is that how little you think of me?"

Kenshin could only stare helplessly back at his son, too stunned even to respond. Kaoru's voice cut in, dangerous and low with warning. "Apologize to your father immediately, Kenji! You have no right to be speaking to him that way!"

"He can tell me that himself!" Kenji returned harshly, earning a pained gasp from Kaoru. "Do you know how it makes me feel when you tell me you _won't_, Father? Not that you _can't_, but that you _refuse_ because of the mistakes you made in _your_ past?"

Kenji's entire body shook with emotion, and he fought to keep Kenshin's gaze, which was trying to move to anywhere except where his son was. "I know what you were," Kenji said softly in measured tones, doing his best to control his temper as Yahiko had taught him. "I know what the Mitsurugi means to you. You used it to destroy, yes, and you did terrible things…I know that. But later, you tried to fix those mistakes as much as you could. You did your best to make things right. I…I respect that. I've _always_ respected that."

Kenji gathered himself, leaning forward and intently meeting Kenshin's torn gaze. "Father, I may be your son but I'm not _you_. You can't make my mistakes for me. You have no right to withhold this knowledge from me. You know I'm strong enough, and when you tell me 'no' that says to me…that says to me that you don't trust me to make the right choice." The silence in the room was deafening.

"Father, don't you trust me?"

Kenshin stared at his son, dismay written across his face. "I…" he whispered.

"_Please!_" Kenji threw himself forward in a bow, his forehead nearly touching the tatami. "I ask this of you, Father, no I beg you! Teach me the Mitsurugi!"

"Kenji, I…this one…_can't_. I'm sorry."

Kenji's vision blurred as he stared down at the grass weave of the tatami. In a sudden explosion of energy he slammed his fist into the mat and stood up, glaring down at Kenshin with open ugly rage, blue eyes nearly glowing in the dim light of the room. "Fine, then. I'll go find someone who _will_. Excuse me," he snarled, storming out of the room, straight past his mother who said his name desperately as he passed.

Kenji was beyond caring. Disappointment and anger coursed through him, tears of frustration blurring his vision. He knew what he had to do now, and he had to do it quickly before his lost his nerve, or one of his parents found theirs and tried to stop him.

* * *

Sano sat back and eyed the young man before him thoughtfully. "Well that's quite a story, kid. So where did your little tantrum get you, huh?" He watched the boy's expression carefully. Truth be told, he was a bit surprised the kid had answered his questions so honestly. _This is obviously been on his mind for a while._

Kenji sighed heavily and picked at woven border of the tatami mat. "I decided to go to Kyoto."

"Why Kyoto?"

Kenji glanced at him. "I figured that would be obvious."

"Well, yes, but I wanted to hear _you_ say it. But anyway, I'm guessing things didn't go as planned."

"Not quite. Yahiko-san stopped me on the way out. He tried to talk me out of going."

Sano sat up, genuinely taken aback. "_Yahiko_ did! Hard to believe, it was always his dream to learn the Mitsurugi."

Surprise flickered through Kenji's eyes and he gave Sano an appraising look. "You…really know him, don't you?"

"Well yeah. Go on."

"Well...he said that's why I shouldn't go. Said I was being selfish, and power-hungry, and reckless…and that my father's refusal wasn't a lack of trust in me. He said it was unfair to my father to ever believe such a thing. "

Sano sighed. "Sounds to me like Kenshin was just being consistent, kid. He wouldn't teach Yahiko either, no matter how much he begged him or tried to trick him into lessons. Your dad went through hell because of that style. Granted, it was mostly because of his own mistakes, but that's why he believes it's wrong to teach it to anyone else. The Mitsurugi can only _kill_ to protect others, and he refuses to be a party to that anymore. Condoning killing, or passing on methods to murder, goes right against his vow. It's pretty understandable. Don't you think?"

Kenji shook his head, but Sano got the impression it wasn't disagreement. "It's just…it's just that I'm not satisfied when I practice the Kasshin Ryu. I'm always restless and frustrated and, well, almost _bored_. I know I'm stronger than that, I _know_ I could learn the Misturugi."

Sano snorted. "Knowing he was strong got your dad into a shitload of trouble, kid. It's stuff that he obviously _still_ suffers from, if what you've told me so far is any indication. It's been almost thirty years since the war ended, you realize that? He will never recover from his guilt, from the pain he caused others. If you learn the Mitsurugi you'll want to use it. Maybe to protect yourself, maybe to protect others, but in the end without a sakabatou—or heck, maybe even with one—someone's going to end up dead at the end of your blade. Are you prepared for that? You rushing blindly into power, thinking you're responsible enough to use it, is exactly what he's afraid of because that's exactly what he did when he was your age."

"Doesn't matter anyway." Kenji said bitterly, now refusing to meet Sano's eyes. "Hiko-sama's dying. I have no options left."

"You went to Kyoto anyway, huh?"

"I walked there."

"I can't imagine Kenshin was very happy about that."

Kenji nodded. "My father knew what I would do…somehow, he always knows. He was waiting for me in Kyoto when I finally arrived. He took me to see Hiko-sama. He showed me it was impossible."

Sano sighed. "So I'm going to guess that's why they're in Kyoto now, huh? That sucks kid, it really does. Hard to believe old age could ever touch that guy; never did see him fight myself, but I figure anyone who trained Kenshin has to be pretty incredible. I notice he gets a '-sama' from you. Sounds like you respect the guy. So why aren't you there with them?"

Kenji looked out into the garden and didn't answer. Sano took his silence at face value. _So that's how it's going to be, huh? Well the kid's got pride I'll give him that. Damn, I bet Kenshin's upset about all this though. Hiko's practically his father. Damn shame, really._ "Hey…you feel up to a drink?"

Startled, Kenji looked over at him. "We don't have sake, I told you…"

"No, I mean _go out_. You look like you need a break from all this stress, kid. Don't worry about the roof; it'll still be here when you get back."

"Hey, if you're going to be taking my little brother drinking then I'd better come along. I am supposed to be keeping an eye on him after all."

Sano stared up at the figure who'd appeared silently in the doorway. He hadn't even realized he was there, and Sano was impressed despite himself. _He's pretty good. I know that voice, too_. He grinned up at the young man standing above him. _Well, look's like the Tokyo Samurai's all grown up now. Guess I can't call him a little brat anymore._ "Hey, you got taller."

"And you look like you've been sleeping under bushes in the mountains. When the hell did you get here?" Yahiko leaned against the inside of the doorframe, crossing well-muscled arms over his chest. Sano took in his friend's features, amazed at the change that had come over the little boy he used to know. Tall and muscular, moving with the grace of a professional swordsman, Yahiko was barely recognizable as the amateur kendo student who'd always run in Kenshin's shadow. But one look from those intelligent brown eyes, and Sano knew exactly who he was looking at.

Sano smiled and swished his tea in his cup. "Got in a little bit ago. Kenji here's been sharing his teenage angst with me."

"Hey!"

Yahiko grinned. "Yeah, he can be a bit of a brat but he's got a good head on his shoulders. Sometimes. I'm up for drinks after lessons today. You coming with us, Kenji?"

"I…uh…yeah, I guess." The boy looked a little stunned.

Sano cocked his head to one side curiously. "What's with him?"

"Oh nothing really, it's just that ever since his little jaunt to Kyoto he's been under house arrest, Kaoru's orders."

Both Sano and Kenji opened their mouths to protest. "Which I'm overriding, this day only," Yahiko said pointedly. "This stays between us, got it? Otherwise Busu'll have my hide." He turned a serious look on Sano. "I don't know what Kenji's told you, but I'm sure it's not even half of what's been going on since you've been gone. I'll fill you in later. Come on Kenji-kun, the students will be here in a half-hour."

The boy sighed. "Coming, Yahiko-san." He stood and passed by Sano with a brief nod.

The traveler watched the boy head for the dojo. Yahiko stayed in the doorway, watching Sano. After a moment, the traveler stood with a yawn. Heh, guess I'm not used to talking so much. That kid's exhausting. "Yahiko, I'm gonna head out for a while into town since you're busy. I'll meet you at the Akabeko later."

The swordsman nodded. "Sure thing. And Sano…it's good to see you again."

Sano grinned and clapped the other man on the shoulder. Without another word he strode past him and headed for the gate. He sauntered out and was gone just as suddenly as he'd appeared that morning. Yahiko looked after him for a moment, expression unreadable, then followed his younger brother to the dojo.

TBC…

A/N: Hope you're enjoying the ride so far Sorry this chapter took so long, but get used to long delays. My school's really challenging, and it's hard to get time to write. But rest assured, I won't abandon this story. I'm having way too much fun writing it :D Next time: Kenji swings a sword a bit, and the boys get slightly drunk. So what _did_ happen in Kyoto anyway? O tano shimi ni!


	3. Gathering Storm

Clearing Skies

by Calger459

Chapter 3: Gathering Storm

Disclaimer: The usual. We know this part by now, right? RK is owned by Watsuki-sensei, Sony, and Media Blasters, blah blah.

Notes: Who needs 'em? On with the fic!

Yahiko stared at the dojo gate for several moments after Sano had vanished through them. His thoughts were oddly blank. The absolute last thing he'd expected today was to come to work and find Sagara Sanosuke sitting on the dojo porch. Sano, whom he'd last seen when he was still a young boy. Sano, who'd just taken off without really telling them why, other than that there were some cops after him and he felt like leaving Japan for a little while. His jaw clenched, his blank shock at again seeing a man whom he'd once thought of as a friend, or even an older brother, turning to resentment. _He_ _just shows up out of the blue, and Kenshin isn't even here to see him. Unbelievable._ "And so very Sano," he whispered to himself. He looked over to where Kenji was standing. The boy was leaning listlessly against the outer wall of the dojo, apparently waiting for Yahiko. He sighed and walked toward the boy. Wordlessly, Kenji pushed off the wall and headed for the dojo's entrance.

Yahiko noted that Kenji had apparently not come away from his talk with Sano unaffected either; he walked as if his feet were made of lead. Inwardly, Yahiko sighed. He was concerned for the boy who was, for all intents and purposes, his younger brother. Kenji had been acting strange for several months now. The change in his behavior hadn't started at any particular moment that Yahiko could recall, but lately it had been growing worse. From the happy and smiling—if dangerously mischievous—boy he'd been, Kenji had changed, becoming sullen, withdrawn and filled with frustration. Yahiko thought that maybe the boy would have worked out whatever his issues were during his impromptu trip to Kyoto, but the boy was now worse than ever. He sighed. _Please tell me he isn't turning into his dad._

Kenji slid open the door to the dojo and waited politely for Yahiko to enter first. Once inside, they prepared for the kendo class in silence. Kenji had been helping out as an assistant master for nearly two years now, and Yahiko didn't need to tell him what had to be done. With an efficiency particular to him, Kenji took the sets of kendo armor out of their cabinets and laid them neatly in a row, one for each student who would arrive that day.

Yahiko glanced over at him. Part of him wanted to push the issue of Kenji's recent attitude, but the last thing either of them needed was to get into a difficult argument right before a class. Even so, he knew what he had to say next was going to invite trouble. "I ran into Ryo-kun's father earlier, Kenji. He's sick today, so he won't need armor."

Kenji paused in the middle of laying the last set of armor down. After a moment he nodded once and straightened up again, turning on his heel and putting the armor back in its space. He slid the cabinet doors shut with what to Yahiko seemed slightly more force than necessary.

"Kenji, is something wrong?"

"No." The boy turned away and began counting out bokken from the storage rack.

"Are you sure?"

"What are we going over with this group today?"

_Just as I thought._ Yahiko decided reluctantly to accept the other's stubbornness for the moment. That was certainly easier than trying to worm an answer out of the boy, who could be as close-mouthed as his father when he wanted to be. Putting his misgivings aside, he briefly outlined the sword forms they'd be covering. "Oh, and Akira's in this class, remember."

Kenji visibly stiffened. "You mean it's his turn to spar today."

"…yeah."

Kenji shot him an irritated glare. "Why don't _you_ fight him for once?"

"Because that's your job. I thought we agreed on this."

Kenji opened his mouth to argue, but the first student chose that moment to arrive, effectively ending the argument before it could really beginTurning away from Kenji, Yahiko masked his frustration and did his best to act as if nothing was amiss; in public, there was no reasonable way he could deal with Kenji's disrespectful behavior. However, Yahiko had had enough, and there was no way he was going to let this continue. Kenji would get his confrontation eventually, and at that time Yahiko had every intention of literally knocking some sense into his younger brother.

The next several minutes were strictly the business of running the class as the students arrived one by one. Kenji spent a while glaring sullenly at Yahiko when he thought the older man wasn't looking, but eventually he remembered his job and concentrated on running exercises with the more experienced students, while Yahiko reviewed the day's forms with the newer ones.

There were twelve students in this group, all around Kenji's age. None of them could hold a candle to the boy's ability though; he was a natural with a sword, and had shown from an early age that he had inherited his father's skill, power, and near inhuman speed. In truth, he was almost too good for Kamiya Kasshin; the only technique he didn't know now was the ougi, and he had only just turned fifteen.

Yahiko had learned the technique early of course, but so far he had hesitated in showing it to Kenji. It concerned him that the boy showed little interest in becoming a full master of the school. All Kenji talked about now was Hiten Mitsurugi. He seemed to desire the style even more than Yahiko had, and the obsession was worrisome. Kenshin had already refused his son's request, and Yahiko knew that Hiko had also. He frowned slightly as he watched Kenji work with the students. He was demonstrating a technique for them, his sword strokes sure and powerful. He was doing his job well, but Yahiko could see the boredom in his brother's eyes. Unfortunately, Kenji generally was not one to take "no" for an answer, and he knew he was good enough to learn the Mitsurugi style. It was no wonder he'd ignored Yahiko's warning and taken off for Kyoto on his own.

_Reckless fool._ Yahiko set his students to a long series of drills. Stepping back from them, he kept a careful eye on Kenji's half of the dojo, where he'd also set his students to drills. The boy walked around and checked on each one, correcting them individually. Several times he had to come back to everyone's least favorite student, Akira. He was one of the worst students in the class, but by far the most egotistical and arrogant. He refused to accept that he was not yet at the teachers' level, which Yahiko knew irritated Kenji to no end. He well understood why Kenji didn't want to fight him; the boy would be forced to seriously hold back when he sparred with Akira, so that he wouldn't actually hurt the fool._ After all, this is only kendo…the old days where dojos like this trained real warriors are long gone._

Yahiko turned back to his own students, sighing internally. He hated putting up with Akira as much as Kenji did, but times were tough, and they needed students. When Harada Akira, the son of an influential Tokyo politician and businessman, had come to the dojo nearly a year ago, he'd brought his two younger brothers and eight of his friends with him. Kaoru had leapt at the chance to sign up so many students at once, especially since all of them were the either the sons of, or closely related to, well-known Tokyo elite. "Even if a few of them quit," she had said, "at least one or two will be long-term students, and their parents might spread the word about our style. This is an important opportunity!"

Yahiko remembered the conversation well, because he had gone to Kaoru with his misgivings about Akira. "Look, Kaoru, I don't mind his friends so much, but Akira refuses to listen to either of us. He thinks he knows everything about kenjutsu, but he's only had three lessons so far! He's going to be a problem."

Kaoru had given him a reproving look. "I'm sure he'll come around, Yahiko. You just need to have some patience with him. After all, you weren't much better when you first started."

Yahiko had scoffed at that, offended at being compared with a brat like Akira. "Right, because you were just SO patient with me, Busu." That comment had earned him a sound smack on the head, as well as an amused look from a silently observing Kenshin.

"I leave things to you, Yahiko-sensei," she'd responded sweetly.

Yahiko stared into space, bothered by the memory._ You may say that, Busu, but you haven't actually tried to teach this guy. He's going to be dangerous, whether or not he learns to swing a sword correctly._

"Sensei!" Akira suddenly appeared in front of him, a scowl on his face.

Yahiko quickly recovered from his surprise, irritation taking over. _Breathe. Just breathe. _"Yes, Akira-san?"

"I don't appreciate Himura-sensei's attitude. He's hardly paid any attention to me this class!"

_A liar_ _**and** an attention hound. Great._ Yahiko forced himself to sound reasonable. Ever since he'd started teaching, he'd done his best to emulate Kenshin's seemingly endless patience with difficult and stubborn people. It has always worked well for Kenshin, as Yahiko had had the opportunity to observe countless times since he'd met the swordsman. However, Yahiko wasn't nearly as good at it as his mentor. He measured his next words with difficulty. "Well, he has six of you to teach today. It would be best if you waited for your turn patiently." _You snotty little brat._ Yahiko hid his thoughts with a carefully controlled smile.

"But he just told me I wasn't worth his time!"

_Well damn_. "I see. Give me a moment and I'll ask him about it. Please practice your exercises with the others until then."

Akira huffed and stormed back over to the other end of the dojo. Yahiko sighed. _It seems they're both in fine form today. Lucky me._ He glanced around the class. "All right everyone, ten minute break! There's fresh water for you in its usual place. We'll spar with the armor on afterwards."

There were murmurs of assent about the room and the boys eagerly gathered around the water pitcher, talking and laughing amiably. Akira, after one last hateful glare at Kenji, joined his friends and they immediately formed a noisy group in one corner of the room. Yahiko watched them for a moment. The other boys hung around and looked up to Akira, but that wasn't necessarily because they liked him. He knew for a fact that four of the boys' fathers worked for the Harada family, and their "friendship" with the arrogant youngster was nothing more than a ploy for future favors from his father. It all made Yahiko rather sad, and he wished Kaoru had never let someone like him into their dojo. If there was something their tiny family avoided, it waspoliticians. If Kenshin had said anything to Kaoru about her decision, Yahiko wasn't aware of it. However, Kenshin never visited this particular class, and it wasn't a mystery to Yahiko why. Kenshin still did his best to keep a low profile within the city, and so it wasn't terribly well-known outside the local Asakusa area just who Kenji's father was. _And it's best to keep it that way. He needs to grow up and come into his own without Kenshin's past holding him back._ The irony of that thought was not lost on him; the older and more aware of Battousai's legacy Kenji had become, the harder it was to protect him from following a similar path. In fact Kenji himself seemed almost to _want_ Kenshin's history to affect him, and that was something Yahiko knew Kenshin worried about every day. Frowning darkly, he turned away and headed over to where Kenji was making adjustments to one of the armor sets. He stood over the boy for a minute. "I need to talk with you."

"About what?"

"What are you doing to that armor?"

Kenji didn't look up. "These ties are loose."

"They look fine to me."

"You suggesting something?"

Yahiko crouched down swiftly and leaned in close to the other's face. "I don't think I should have to remind you that this is a _paying_ class of students and that we're _professionals_. What did you say to Akira?"

"What did he say I said?"

Yahiko briefly closed his eyes in frustration. "Look, you need to teach him just like all the others. Despite his personality."

Kenji grunted. "I'm not in the mood for his crap today."

"Watch your mouth in here, and I don't care if you're in the mood or not. It's not appropriate, and I _will_ tell your parents about this if it keeps up. If we lose students it hurts our reputation, and you _know_ how hard things were when you were young. I know you remember."

Kenji flinched slightly, but he met Yahiko's gaze. "_You_ are telling _me_ to watch my mouth? You sure act weird when you're in this dojo. You should just be yourself."

Yahiko smiled grimly. "Yes, because you are such a fine example, and it would work so well for the boys over there. I see."

For a moment, Kenji couldn't seem to decide if he was going to be hurt or defiant. Yahiko watched his face settle on the latter. "You're not my father, Yahiko-san, and you aren't my babysitter either. You don't have to go running to my mom every time I do something you don't like."

Yahiko's eyes flashed. The urge to smack Kenji through the back wall of the dojo was almost overwhelming. When he spoke, his voice was low, and heavy with meaning. "Then I won't."

They stared at each other for a long, tense moment. Yahiko searched the other's eyes, and noted with satisfaction that Kenji seemed to have understood his meaning. He'd helped raise this boy from infancy, and he was a father himself. He had no trouble applying his own style of discipline, if that's what it came to. Finally, Kenji broke eye contact. Yahiko stood.

"You will spar with Akira first and get it out of the way. Don't hurt him."

Kenji's jaw clenched. It seemed he wasn't quite done arguing yet. "He's learning swordsmanship isn't he? How is he supposed to learn if we don't make it more real?"

Yahiko leaned down, still keeping his voice low. "You have no idea what real combat is, so don't presume you can teach him. We're teaching the art of kendo and combat within _this setting_. Do we understand each other?"

After a moment, the boy responded through gritted teeth. "Yes, Yahiko-san."

Yahiko turned away, not at all reassured. "Good. Let's get them ready to go."

* * *

"Huuuungry." Sano hung his head and scuffed his way through town, cursing his foolishness. _Why the hell didn't I at least get a bite of rice before I left? I'm such an idiot!_ Had Kenji actually upset him so much he'd forgotten his hunger? Sano scowled at this thought. _No way. I can handle a kid like that._

He wandered through the streets, his feet gradually remembering the route he'd once walked every day. He paused briefly in front of the Akabeko, which he was grateful to see was still in its original location. Customers thronged in an out, and he smiled at the sight. _Good 'ol Tae-san. The master businesswoman._ He stared at the restaurant longingly, then willed his feet to move on. He found he just didn't have the nerve to waltz in and demand yet another meal on a tab he would never be capable of paying. _I can't believe I just thought that. I_ _don't know what's with me today; I must be losing my mind._

He left the market and headed further north, not really thinking where he was going. It wasn't long before he found himself surrounded by rowhouses, the homes of the poor. Here filthy children in even filthier kimono ran about, playing with sticks and whatever makeshift toys they could find lying around. The stench of sewage rose from the stagnant drainage canals, and he tried to ignore a man, obviously drunk out of his mind even at this early hour, being sick into one of them. _Nothing like home, I guess. I hope Yahiko didn't really take up that offer of moving into my apartment. That was just a joke._

He remembered the moment vividly: Sano standing in a small boat at the Tokyo bay docks, on the run from the police, his friends all gathered on shore: Kenshin and Kaoru, already a couple even if they didn't yet acknowledge it, and Yahiko, looking at him with something like panicked betrayal. He could tell the boy didn't understand why he was leaving; Sano himself hadn't even understood all his reasons at the time. He supposed that offering his rowhouse room was the best thing he could think of to reassure the boy that he would be back eventually.

_Well that "eventually" certainly took a while, didn't it?_ Yahiko had hid it well back at the dojo, but Sano could sense anger in the younger man, and he was sure it had to do with him. He supposed that's why he'd chosen to leave immediately, rather than stick around to mooch some much-needed food. _Oh yeah, definitely losing my mind. He and I will just have to have a chat later I guess. _

In any event, he was sure his original room, if not taken over by a ten-year-old Yahiko (which he highly doubted), had either been rented out to someone else or burned down long ago. So why then was he here? He wasn't entirely sure himself; even Katsu and his old gambling buddies had probably moved on to somewhere better by now.

_There's really nothing left for me here, is there?_ He stopped and slumped wearily against the side of a building. He closed his eyes and felt himself drift mentally, finally giving in to his hunger and exhaustion. In this state it took several moments for his ears to register the loud scuffle of several pairs of feet making their way down the narrow street. This was normally nothing to be excited about; this wasn't exactly the nicest part of town and this group was no doubt the usual rabble of drunken thugs, looking for someone to mug. No one Sano couldn't handle; what got his attention though was their odd silence. Men like these were usually boisterous in their prowling, joking crudely about some woman they'd had the night before or listing the gambling dens they'd cleaned out recently. To Sano, these men's silence could mean only one thing. _Up to no good in broad daylight? That's awfully foolish. Either that or they're looking for someone._ He opened one eye and leaned slightly to the left, peering around the corner. _Well, well._

The group of men coming down the street were what Sano liked to classify as Weird Scum. They were dressed in an outlandish mixture of Western clothes and garish kimono, and all of them were armed with swords. They weren't flimsy cane swords but katana, which was enough to put Sano on edge. The man he presumed was their leader was in front, dressed messily in a faded blue kimono. His long, greasy hair hung about his face and his eyes gleamed madly, darting around rapidly, obviously looking for something. Sano tucked himself back behind the wall and relaxed with his eyes closed, looking as uninterested as possible. Whatever it was they were up to, it had nothing to do with him.

The scuffling feet went by him…and stopped. "Hey, you there."

Sano pretended to be asleep, letting his head loll to one side. A sword hilt poked him sharply in the ribs.

"I know you aren't asleep. Look at me!"

Sano opened one eye lazily. It was Greasy Hair who'd spoken. "What?"

"You are Sagara Sanosuke, are you not? Friend to Battousai?"

It took a great effort to cover his surprise. "Who?"

"We know you've been trying to lead us away from him. Where is Battousai?"

_You're kidding me, right?_ "Never heard of 'im, just got into town today. You have the wrong guy, pal."

"I don't think so; you fit all the descriptions I've heard. You wear the headband of the Sekihoutai, and have 'Aku' on your back. You are him. While you've been wandering the streets all morning with us, there was no question in my mind that you leading us away from him." There was a sharp _snickt_ of a sword being loosened from its sheath, and in an instant one of Greasy's men had stepped forward and pressed his sword against Sano's neck. "You will tell me where he is."

Sano straightened up, leveling an irritated glare at the smaller man. "I have NO idea what you're talking about. I found this stuff on the side of the road a few months ago." He tugged on his headband. "I thought it looked cool, and I needed new clothes. Maybe this Sanosuke guy got himself murdered or somethin'."

Greasy's eyes narrowed. His eyes were creeping Sano out; they were somewhat offset, and never seemed to be quite looking at him. He knew the guy wasn't blind though; he moved around too well for that. The eyes themselves were blood-shot and unhealthy-looking, with the sort of dullness to them that usually spoke of a long illness. "I don't believe you. Take us to Battousai, or this man will kill you."

_Yeah, whatever._ "Hey man, I didn't do anything okay? He can try to kill me if he wants, but wouldn't it kinda suck if you offed an innocent guy?"

Greasy grinned, a mad sick expression that chilled Sano's blood. "Sounds like fun to me. Kill him."

The thug lunged forward, but Sano was no longer there. He dropped to the ground and rammed his shoulder into Greasy's gut. The man crumpled like rice paper, but Sano didn't let that stop him. Another thug swung his sword and Sano punched the blade in a Futae no Kiwami. The sword exploded, sending shards into the man's face. Sano spun the minute he attacked, letting his cloak catch the shrapnel. He immediately laid out two more with a flurry of punches, shattering their weapons for good measure. That left two more goons, and both were standing protectively in front of their leader with swords drawn. "I'd rather not kill you," Sano said evenly. "How about I just take off, eh? Like I said, you have the wrong guy."

The men charged in answer.

* * *

Akira flew backwards and landed hard on his rump, his shinai tumbling to the floor. The other boys, who knelt in a line against one wall of the dojo, snickered quietly. He glared at the boy in armor across from him. Although his face was hidden by the kendo mask, he could _feel_ Kenji grinning triumphantly at him. 

"Point: Kenji-sensei." Yahiko announced. "Please get up, Akira-san."

The boy growled and got to his feet. He and Kenji squared off again. Yahiko's voice echoed around the dojo. "Begin!"

Akira charged and swung for all he was worth, trying desperately to get under Kenji's guard. Kenji however was far too fast and nimble; he moved nearly too quickly to see as he got around to Akira's side, scoring a hit on his breast armor. Akira snarled and spun to meet him, only to find his shinai easily blocked. They broke apart and moved back to their respective sides of the ring. Akira was breathing heavily; Kenji however strode back casually to his position, obviously not winded in the slightest, even though they'd been sparring for several minutes now. _Damn him, **damn him**_! _How can we be the same age, yet so different?_ Akira bared his teeth behind his mask, not caring that it was a wasted gesture. "Kenji-sensei, how exactly am I supposed to be learning from this?"

He could feel the other regarding him from behind the mask. "What do you mean?"

"You're moving far too quickly! You aren't giving me a chance to attack!"

"So you expect me to baby you instead? You can't catch up to everyone else if you don't push yourself to become faster."

Akira didn't miss the warning look Yahiko gave Kenji. He'd noticed them talking rather forcefully together during the break earlier, obviously having some kind of argument. He grinned. "It must be frustrating for you Kenji-sensei, having to bring yourself down to my level. Maybe my speed is just right, and you're the one who's in the wrong sword style."

"Akira-san." Yahiko's look was dangerous. Behind him, the other students shifted nervously. Akira was treading on dangerous ground, but he was feeling particularly bold today.

"I know about Himura-san, my father told me," Akira said slyly, watching for Kenji's reaction. "What are you even doing in this dojo? Why aren't you learning your father's style? That must be pretty insulting. At least I assume it is, since your heart isn't in _this_ style. It never is!"

Yahiko had taken a step forward, his eyes blazing. The other students watched the exchange in shock, whispering amongst themselves. "That's enough Akira-san. I will not allow this kind of disrespect. You will leave this dojo _now_. You are suspended for one month."

Akira merely sneered, taking pleasure in the visible tremble in Kenji's shinai. "Fine Sensei, whatever. But we have a fight to finish here, don't we?"

"Your lesson is over for today," Yahiko bit out.

"No, it isn't." Kenji's voice was low, with an odd note to it Akira had never heard before. "Akira, if my speed bothers you…get over it."

The attack came with the swiftness of lightning. Somewhere in the middle of it, Akira registered that Kenji's relatively fragile bamboo shinai had been replaced with a solid wood bokken. However, he had no time to wonder how on earth the other boy had gone over to the wall and traded weapons without him seeing. In the next instant, both the weapon and Kenji had vanished. Then Kenji's bokken hit his helmet hard from above, and Akira's mask _shattered_, as if it were no stronger than an eggshell. Kenji's weapon continued on its downward path, striking his collarbone and driving against it with tremendous pressure. Akira felt himself fall to the floor, and then _through_ it, the world going black around him.

He looked up into Kenji's face, somehow now without a mask on it. His consciousness gave out then, leaving him only with the memory of a pair of enraged golden eyes.

* * *

The next several seconds, only Kenji's harsh breathing could be heard in the dojo. The students stood speechless, staring at their sensei with a mixture of awe and fear. Yahiko's face was unreadable. Only his trembling fist, clenched at his side, betrayed his anger. Slowly, he turned to face the class. "I need one of you to run for the doctor immediately." A nervous hand, one of Akira's friends, went up in the back of the group. "Thank you, Takao-san. The rest of you are dismissed for the day." 

The students hurriedly gathered their things and headed for the door, shooting nervous glances over their shoulders at Kenji as they left. Yahiko knelt by Akira and pried the unconscious boy from the shallow crater in the dojo floor. Laying him down gently, he began untying his armor. "Kenji, please help me with this."

He looked over at the boy, who was still standing in the same place, his bokken slack in his fingers, face white with shock.

"Kenji!"

The other boy blinked and started, his breathing rapid. He glanced at Akira, then away again. He couldn't look Yahiko in the eye. "I…Yahiko-san…"

"We'll discuss this later. He seems to be okay, it looks like you broke his collarbone though. Help me please."

Kenji knelt down shakily. They worked in uneasy silence, a wide gulf between them.

* * *

Hours later, Yahiko resolutely poured himself a cup of sake. Kenji just stared at the table. 

"You know, today started out as a good day."

Kenji winced.

"I woke up, had some of Tsubame's cooking. I even got her to watch the kids tonight so I could spend the evening with you. But a certain foolish little brother of mine had to go and ruin it. And as much as I'd like to blame the whole thing on Sanosuke, I know that's not it."

Kenji swallowed and looked out at the bustling night crowd of the Akabeko. "I'm sorry."

"Are you? I don't think I'm wrong in guessing that pummeling Akira into the floor felt pretty good. Goodness knows I've wanted to do the same thing more than once. But there's a difference between you and me. I'd like you to guess what it is."

"Yahiko-san…"

"Just humor me, Kenji. What's the difference?"

The boy sighed and picked at his pickled daikon. "You wouldn't have acted on the desire."

"That's right. Kenji, I understand your feelings toward Hiten Mitsurugi. But I had to accept a long time ago that it was Kenshin's right to pass on the style if he so wished. And I respect him enough—and I learned to understand the nature of his vow well enough—that I finally gave up on that dream. Akira had no right to say that to you today, but you shouldn't have risen to the bait either."

Now Kenji's anger flared. "But Yahiko-san, he's right. I don't belong in this style. It's so obvious!"

"It doesn't matter. I know you understand the ramifications of what you did today. Until now, the other boys have looked up to you and respected your skill. But from now on they will fear you."

Kenji's face was pained. "…I know."

"What's worse, now word will spread. By the end of the week every one of our students will know what you did to Akira. I'll probably be hearing from his parents tomorrow, and the blame will be placed on me, because I am responsible for you while we are in that dojo. We'll certainly lose Akira as a student, as well as his friends and younger brothers. Not to mention the trouble this could bring to Kenshin, since Harada-san obviously knows who he is. Oh yes, I'm sure Kaoru will just _love_ to hear all this when she gets home." He rubbed his temples, trying in vain to ward off a tension headache. "Kenji, you're looking at a dead man, right here."

The boy sighed. "You know, all this lecturing really isn't helping that much."

Yahiko glared at him. "What's happened to you recently? Last year I couldn't even have imagined you attacking someone like that. You've changed, especially since you went to Kyoto, and I want to know why."

* * *

Sano sighed in relief when he stumbled into the Akabeko to find Yahiko and Kenji already waiting for him. Tae was nowhere in sight, another plus. He didn't need that tab coming back to haunt him any sooner than necessary. 

He plopped down tiredly on the tatami flooring of the booth and pushed off his shoes. "Hey, how'd the lesson go?"

He didn't get a response. He looked up to find Yahiko and Kenji glaring resentfully at each other. Yahiko took a deliberate sip of sake; Kenji reached over for a piece of daikon, popping it into his mouth without ever removing his gaze from Yahiko.

Sano took this in with some surprise. "What's going on, guys?"

Yahiko wordlessly moved over for him and Sano settled into his spot gratefully. Yahiko finally broke eye contact with Kenji to look over at him. "Where the hell have you been? You're even more of a mess than earlier."

Sano frowned. "Hey, I was a little busy. I got here as quickly as I could, okay?"

Kenji looked amused. "Busy with what, a fight?"

Sano brushed road dust and what appeared to be thin shards of metal from his cloak. "Yeah, but I'm not talking about it on an empty stomach. I haven't eaten in almost two days. It's getting kind of ridiculous." He waved down a waitress, who was dressed in a frilly Western-style outfit that reminded him strongly of England. Idly, Sano wondered when the uniform had changed from the traditional kimono he remembered. "Sake, and the meatiest dish you've got. Actually, make that _two_."

"Uh…yes sir," she said nervously before hurrying away.

Sano smiled at his companions. "I guess I do look pretty bad. She reminds me of Tsubame-chan. Hey, is she still in town?"

Yahiko managed a small, genuine smile. "She's my wife."

Sano blinked at him for a moment, before breaking in a wide grin. "Oh way to go, man!" He clapped Yahiko heartily on the back, nearly making him choke on his drink. "I always knew you'd get together. When did that happen?"

"A while ago," Yahiko said quietly. He looked at Kenji and his smile faded. Sano could feel the tension between them. _Something happened while I was out, something bad._ Suddenly, the idea of hitting them with even more bad news about the men he'd run into seemed a bit cruel.

Sano stretched lazily, trying to ignore the ominous popping sounds in his joints. "Hey guys, let's just relax like we'd originally planned to, okay? Whatever problems are going on, they can wait until later."

Yahiko smiled ironically. "You mean until after we're good and drunk and no longer care, right?"

Sano laughed, and it fully hit him just how _good_ it felt be back among friends again. "Sounds good to me!"

The food arrived and Sano dove into it immediately. _Oh, I'm in Heaven._ "Damn, this place is even better than I remembered!" On a whim, he shoved his sake across the table at Kenji. "Here, drink up kid, I'll get myself another one."

Kenji glanced uncertainly at Yahiko. "Uh…I'm not really allowed…"

Yahiko sighed. "No, you're not, but if you want to have some I won't stop you tonight. This is our secret, right?"

Kenji looked at him a long moment, before smiling in cautious relief. He knew the problems from earlier hadn't gone away, but for the moment Yahiko seemed willing to forget about them. "Yeah, it is."

"Sano," Yahiko asked almost casually as he poured himself another cup. "Who's paying for all the food and sake you just ordered?"

Sano grinned almost evilly. "I don't have any money, not in Japanese currency anyway."

Yahiko's eyes widened in horror. "Sanosuke! I didn't bring that much with me!"

The former streetfighter, amused almost beyond words, inhaled the last of his second bowl. "Put it on your tab, then."

"I don't have a tab!"

"Will there be anything else, sir?" The waitress had returned. She was looking down at the empty bowls in some surprise.

Sano winked at Yahiko. "You do now." He turned back to the waitress. "Three more shou of sake, and a big bowl of rice."

The waitress smiled and hurried off.

Yahiko scowled and tried to ignore the fact that Kenji was quietly laughing at him. "You _are_ paying me back for this Sano, one way or another."

Sano grabbed Yahiko's sake bottle and liberally poured himself some. "Yeah, yeah."

* * *

The gathering darkness did little to hide the hulking group of men hanging around the outside of the Akabeko. They looked like tough men, the kind that were seen less and less often as the Meiji era progressed, and the people on the street gave them a wide berth. This of course suited the gathered thugs just fine; they didn't want to attract attention just yet. One of them, the lookout, was watching the entrance of the Akabako intently. 

"Are you sure he went in there?" one of his companions whispered to him after nearly an hour.

"I saw him go in," the watching man replied. "This is the place. Battousai is often spotted here, and the man with the headband came here right after the fight, so it's likely that he really is a friend of the hitokiri."

He could hear the doubtful frown in the other man's voice. "Just going to a restaurant doesn't prove anything."

"Are you doubting Hayakawa-sama's information?" one of the other men growled. "The connection's already been proved. This just confirms it."

The lookout man turned to the others. "Enough of this. We're after Battousai, and when he eventually comes out, we'll secure him and bring him to Hayakawa-sama. Is that clear?"

The others murmured assent, hungry anticipation of a challenging fight gleaming in their eyes.

Falling back into disciplined silence, they settled down to wait.

TBC…

End notes: I've been a teacher, and I had a couple students that made me want to strangle them every time I saw them. Can you tell? Hey, no one said writing couldn't be therapeutic. Lots of Kenji-centered fighting next chapter, and more about his fateful journey to Kyoto, hopefully it won't take me four months to finish. My sincere apologies for the ridiculous delay this time. It was from a combination of factors ranging from writer's block, to my own busy RL, to a busy beta-reader who juggles being a wife, a full-time employee _and_ a full-time mom, to character development issues that took several rounds of beta-ing to resolve. Large amounts of the character depth in this chapter owe themselves to Ranma-chan's amazing beta skills. You're the best! Okay, that's enough for now, see you next time, hopefully sooner rather than later!


	4. Identity

Clearing Skies

Chapter 4: Identity

by Calger459

Disclaimer: Rurouni Kenshin is owned by Sony, Watsuki-sensei, etc. I'm not nearly cool enough to have invented characters this interesting on my own. So there.

Author's notes: Kenshin gets pissed, news at 11. On with the fic!

* * *

_Kyoto._ _Two months ago._

Kenji dragged his tired feet along the dusty road toward the still-distant mountains of Arashiyama. The summer sun blazed down on his back, its heat only adding to the unbearable humidity which drenched his clothes with sweat and made them stick uncomfortably to his skin. His pack seemed the heaviest it had been since he began this journey; even the bokken at his waist felt as heavy as a real katana. His thoughts muzzy in the heat, and he wondered absently if he was even close to Kyoto yet. He'd been traveling for nearly three weeks now, he guessed, though he'd long since lost count of exactly how long he'd been away from home. Walking from Tokyo to Kyoto had been a far more difficult and perilous undertaking than he ever could have imagined, and he'd nearly turned back more than once. But stubborn pride, and the desire to see Hiko Seijirou, had kept him moving forward. Once he reached Hiko's mountain, he reasoned, everything would be okay. He'd explain his dream, demonstrate his worthiness, and then his father's master would teach him the Hiten Misturugi. It was that simple. It had to be. He never allowed himself to consider any other possibility.

He'd been visiting Kyoto since infancy. It was a city of the past, filled with old temples and grand streets, traditional shops and legendary swordsmiths, elegant sakura in spring and endless snow in winter. It was a city Kenji had always loved. Every spring, while his father visited his former wife's grave in private, he and his mother would explore the city. Often one or more of the Oniwabanshu would accompany them. He smiled at his many memories of the bouncy, ever-cheerful Misao. She had long ago adopted him as a sort of honorary nephew, and they'd become fast friends and partners in mischief; Misao's talent for getting into trouble was as great as his own. How many times had they snuck off, Misao showing him secrets about the city that only a ninja could know? He could admit to himself now that, for a time, he'd had a little bit of a crush on her.

He smiled slightly in amusement. _At least that's past now_. Sensing eyes on him, he lifted his head slowly, smile fading. People, fellow travelers, were looking at him with some concern. An elderly couple riding in a cart slowed their horse and dropped back until he was walking beside them. "Are you lost, lad?" the old man asked. His small eyes, nearly lost in his nut-brown, heavily lined face, were kind.

Kenji shook his head. "No, thank you. I'm okay."

The wife smiled at him. After a moment, she leaned around her husband to address him directly. "You seem so young to be traveling alone, dear. Did you lose your parents?"

Kenji blinked at that. "No, they just…I decided to go on my own."

He ignored the worried looks they exchanged and pulled a worn and dirty folded paper out of his gi. Flipping it open, he studied the fading map. _Looks like I'm almost there_. Glancing up, he saw a split in the path. According to the map, the larger branch went to Kyoto. The other led to the mountains. "Well this is my path," he told them cheerfully, forcing a broad smile onto his exhausted face. "Safe journey!"

"Aa, you too lad," the old man replied with a nod. He was giving Kenji a strangely knowing look, and the boy could feel the couple's eyes on him long after the road had split. It wasn't until the cart was finally out of sight that the unnerving feeling of being watched finally disappeared.

Once he was certain he was alone again, Kenji pressed on with renewed energy. He was nearly there, and he felt his excitement rise along with the road which wound into the base of the nearest mountain. According to the map, which he'd found in some of Yahiko's things years ago, Hiko's mountain wasn't far from Kyoto proper. He remembered as a young child making several trips up the mountain with his father, even going with Hiko once to buy some sake in the little village that lay at the base of the mountain. He soon passed the fork in the road which led to that village, and he was strongly tempted to stop for a rest and something to eat, but the afternoon was wearing on and he needed to climb the mountain before night fell. Sighing heavily, he ignored his aching body and continued on.

He soon lost himself again in the monotony of the trail, and was so preoccupied with reading the map that he nearly walked past the small figure sitting calmly on a boulder at the exact spot where the path took a sharp turn up the slope the mountain.

Kenji slowed and glanced over his shoulder at the man. He stopped and stared for a full minute, his mouth going dry.

The man wasn't moving, but even in the shadow of the trees his bright ember-red hair was unmistakable. Kenshin slowly lifted his head and fixed steely eyes on his son.

Several moments of tense silence passed between them. The clearing hummed with sounds of late afternoon insects, broken only by the occasional twitter of a bird. Kenji felt sweat dripping down his face and onto his clothes, but he couldn't move to wipe it away. He could only stare at his father, who sat as still as carved granite. Kenshin's eyes were locked with his, and it was impossible to pull away.

His father's eyes were different than usual. If Kenji understood nothing else of what he was seeing at that moment, it was that. _They're blue,_ he thought stupidly, as Kenshin continued to stare him down in silence. His were indeed a hard, flat, icy blue, completely unlike their usual warm violet. Those eyes promised _pain_, and that alone sent Kenji into confusion. His father had a very even personality as a rule, and was nearly always soft-voiced and gentle, displaying not even the barest hint of irritation at anything.

Right now however, there could be no mistake. Kenji took in the extremely tense set of the other man's shoulders, and the way his right hand was clenched in a white-knuckled fist at his side. His father was more than just angry, he realized; he was _furious_.

Realizing that older swordsman wasn't going to speak first, Kenji asked the first thing that came to mind. "Father…why are you here?"

Kenshin didn't answer immediately. Slowly and deliberately, with an agile grace that Kenji had never been able to copy, he pushed himself down from the top of the rock and stood. He walked very slowly toward his son, in a manner that was absolutely menacing. Kenji swallowed hard, rooted to the spot, his hands were trembling. He came to the startled realization in that moment that he was afraid, actually _afraid_, of his own father. But afraid of what exactly, he had no idea. He could hardly breathe as Kenshin came to a stop just a few feet away.

The older man's eyes narrowed a fraction. "Kenji, do you have _any_ idea how worried we've been?"

He looked away. He couldn't face those angry eyes, which seemed so misplaced in his father's gentle face.

Impossibly, Kenshin's voice became even colder. "Your mother has been _inconsolable_."

_That_ stung, and the tone it was delivered in chilled him. _I've never heard a voice like this from him before. **Never**. _Where was the man who had sat across from him in their home only weeks ago, seemingly helpless in the face of Kenji's frustrated anger? This didn't seem like his father, not the one he knew.

Kenji's hands tightened on the straps of his travel pack. He struggled to think of a reply, for he knew one was expected. "F-father, I—"

"Look at me."

Kenji hesitated; it was hard to move.

"I said, _look at me_."

There was no disobeying that tone, and Kenji slowly, painfully raised his eyes to Kenshin.

His father regarded him for a long moment. "Did you really think that if you came all this way, Shishou would teach you the Hiten Mitsurugi?"

Kenji swallowed, and finally found his voice. "Yes."

"And you felt it was your right to just vanish in the middle of the night and do whatever you liked, just because I told you 'no'?"

Anger burning away his fear, Kenji straightened up, satisfied by the few inches in height he had over Kenshin. "Apparently." He remembered something then, and despite his brain screaming a warning at him, he spoke his mind. "Why are you so angry? You did the same thing to Mother, didn't you?"

He didn't see Kenshin move at all, but a second later Kenji found himself sprawled on the ground, his jaw aching. He was so shocked he couldn't even move. Had he been hit? He stared up at his father in open astonishment. After a moment, he brought a trembling hand to his face. Kenshin merely stood there, completely still, as if he hadn't done anything at all. But Kenji could see his eyes nearly glowing in the fading light. "I've had a while to think about when we spoke last Kenji, and I came to a decision. You can think about what that means on the way to Shishou's. Now get up." And with that, he turned on his heel and walked back to the rock he'd been sitting on. Beside it was a small daypack and a lantern, which he lit. Without even a backward glance at his son, Kenshin started up the trail, the brightness of the lantern quickly swallowed by the encroaching trees.

Kenji blinked in realization, and he scrambled to his feet as fast as he could, grabbing his pack from where it had fallen to the ground. He took off after Kenshin, straining to see the faint light from the lantern bobbing up and down several yards ahead.

Kenshin moved swifter than Kenji could have imagined, and he struggled to keep up on the unfamiliar trail, which was soon plunged into total darkness. Kenji cursed the lack of moonlight, and the dense trees which hid the starlight. But he was far more concerned with what had his father meant by a "decision". Under normal circumstances coming from Kenshin, he'd assume it was something good. His father had always doted on him, largely leaving discipline to his mother. He had never thought much of this; it was just how his family worked. It wasn't until after he'd started school and begun spending time with other children and their parents that he'd realized his father was different than the other adults. He remembered the day his friend Taro's father had come to pick him up instead of his mother. Kenji had never seen a man so tall and stern-looking. Unlike Kenshin, who always greeted his son with a warm smile and a brief embrace, Taro's father had simply stood at the gate, his expression neutral. Kenji had watched in confusion as Taro had bowed slightly to his father. The older man, expression never changing, had simply nodded in acknowledgment and walked off down the street, expecting his son to follow.

_Just like now,_ Kenji thought grimly. For the first time, Kenshin was acting like a normal father; stern, and talking to his son with authority. Kenji had always thought he'd like a father like that, one he could talk about with pride to his friends. He was surprised by how much Kenshin's sudden change in attitude unsettled him. He had no idea what to expect now, and that honestly scared him.

By the time he finally emerged into the clearing surrounding Hiko's home, he was scratched and bleeding, and completely winded. His father had stopped near a huge old tree standing by itself in the middle of the small field. Kenji stumbled over to him, immediately falling to his knees. He crouched there panting, sweat dripping off his face and onto his hands.

After a moment, Kenshin's voice, soft and ironic, floated to his ears. "If that little climb winded you, you won't last five minutes in a lesson with Shishou."

Kenji glared indignantly up at his father. "I've been walking since _dawn_."

"Exactly. Walking, not training. Though I assume you _have_ been keeping up with your exercises all this time?"

The suggestion brought up painful memories, and Kenji consciously had to keep from pressing his hand to the injuries on his back and side. They were healing, but they'd been aggravated by the climb, and he was grateful they were hidden under his gi. That rather embarrassing incident, which had happened fairly early in his journey, was not something he was ready yet to share with anyone, especially not Kenshin. Something else his father had said now perked his interest. "Wait, what do you mean, are you saying Hiko-sama _will_ give me lessons?"

Kenshin's expression grew somber, and without replying he walked toward Hiko's cabin.

With a frustrated sigh, Kenji left his pack on the ground and half-limped, half-staggered after his father, who had stopped to wait in front of Hiko's door. Once Kenji had made it there, Kenshin softly rapped on the outside of the building. "Shishou, are you awake?"

The voice that replied was not the deep, confident, sonorous boom Kenji had always associated with his father's master. Instead it was weak and raspy, and the oddity of that was enough to plant the first seeds of doubt in his chest. "Did you find the brat?"

"I did, Shishou."

Kenji frowned slightly. "But…he always knows when I'm here, doesn't he?"

Kenshin gave him a significant look, and pushed the cabin door open. "Go in."

Kenji hesitated, for the first time slightly afraid of what lay beyond that door. Something about this wasn't right, and he glanced uncertainly at Kenshin.

He wished he hadn't. The expression on the older man's face was scary. Kenshin spoke, his voice low and tightly controlled. "I said _go in_. That's what you came all this way for isn't it?"

Gathering his courage, the boy stepped into the dim, candlelit interior. There was an odd odor in the cabin, which he quickly realized was sickness, and he had to restrain himself from covering his nose and mouth. He searched the floor, and spotted Hiko lying on his futon in the corner, half-covered with a blanket. Kenji had never seen the swordsman like this, and for a moment he had the impression his father's master had grown small. But no, it was just that he was lying down.

He waited for permission to approach. After a moment, Hiko's head turned toward him. Though he seemed too weak to get up, his eyes were as sharp as ever. "Sit down, boy."

Kenji did as he was told. He settled onto his knees and bowed respectfully. "It's good to see you again, Hiko-sama."

"Pity I can't say the same," Hiko said coldly. "Unfortunately, you've turned out to be just like your idiot father."

Kenji gaped in indignant shock. "Wh-what do you mean by that!"

Hiko visibly winced. "Lower your voice."

Remembering himself, Kenji sat back. "I'm sorry." When Hiko didn't seem inclined to speak, Kenji ventured a question. "Hiko-sama…what's wrong with you?"

The swordsman grunted. "I'm sick, moron, what's it look like?"

Kenji frowned. _No wonder Father doesn't like visiting him_. "Will you get better?"

There was a long silence. When Hiko answered, his voice was soft and honest, devoid of its usual arrogance. "I don't know."

Kenji didn't know what to say to that and he bowed his head, feeling the beginnings of despair. "What did you mean I was just like my father?"

Hiko sighed in irritation. "I mean that like him, you're hopelessly stubborn and single-minded, and you never listen to what people say. It is your father's right to refuse your request for training. Even though he didn't accept the title of Hiko Seijirou the Fourteenth, he nevertheless is the current master of the school. It was wrong of you to come to me. Even if I weren't ill, my answer would be 'no'."

Kenji nearly choked on the sudden anger that consumed him. After all the trouble he'd gone through to get here, this was his reward! "No," he said, struggling to keep tears of frustration at bay, "you can't say that, not after I've come all this way! You have no idea what I've been through. I've worked so hard for this; it's what I want! You taught my father, and you didn't take some kind of non-killing vow, so _why_?" His voice had risen to nearly a shout. "Why can't I have your respect?"

"Baka deshi!" Hiko growled. Kenshin immediately appeared. The two men exchanged a look which Kenji couldn't interpret. "Your son is giving me a headache. You deal with him."

Kenshin simply nodded and gestured for Kenji to get up. Kenji looked at Hiko in agony. "Wait, no, you haven't given me an answer yet!"

"_Kenji_." The command in Kenshin's tone was clear. Reluctantly, the boy climbed to his feet and followed his father outside. Suddenly overwhelmed by exhaustion, he collapsed by his travel bag. He hugged his legs and rested his forehead on his knees. Over the distant sound the thundering waterfall, he heard Kenshin approach through the grass.

"Go away," he said harshly. "I don't want to talk to either of you right now."

There was long a moment of pause, just long enough for Kenji to think that he'd been left alone. "Is that so?" Kenji looked up, startled, as the air suddenly stirred next to him. He gasped when he felt a hand grab the collar of his gi and haul him roughly to his feet, so that he stood eye-to-eye with Kenshin. His protest at the rough treatment died on his lips. Kenshin's eyes were fierce. "I don't care if you don't want to talk."

Kenshin released him and Kenji stumbled backward, heart hammering in his ears. He stared at his father in alarm, unsure what to do. Kenshin's behavior was just _bizarre_; raising his voice at him, physically pushing him around? This wasn't the man he'd grown up with at all!

Kenshin was now visibly trembling with anger. "Where have you been? Explain yourself! Why did you come here on your own without telling anyone?"

Kenji gathered what strength he had left and stared his father down. "Is this an interrogation?" the teenager asked quietly, his voice barely remaining steady.

Kenshin's glare could have melted steel. It took all of Kenji's will to stand his ground.

"I don't understand you," Kenshin said finally, his voice a low, pained hiss.

Kenji frowned slightly. "What?"

"I don't know you anymore. You were always an obedient child. Full of mischief, yes, but you didn't deliberately try to endanger or hurt other people."

"I haven't hurt anyone!" Kenji protested.

Kenshin continued as if Kenji had not spoken. "But in the past year, for whatever reason, you've changed. What on earth were you thinking, Kenji? Do you disrespect us so much, you don't even care that we've spent nearly a month wondering if you were alive or dead?"

Kenji scowled in silent indignation, trying to ignore the pain the accusation caused him. Of course he respected his parents! How could he not? No, it was _they_ who had disrespected _him_! He was old enough to make his own decisions now; it was ridiculous that all his wants and desires were still being spurned like this, for no good reason that he could see.

"Well?"

Kenji just glared back in defiant, sullen silence. Kenshin returned his gaze…and then something in his face changed. The cold mask of anger he had worn until now seemed to crumble for an instant, revealing an agonized frustration that Kenji couldn't remember ever seeing in his father before. His eyes also had changed; they were unfathomable eyes, deep and dark as Tokyo bay at midnight, filled with sorrow, grief, regret, and a dozen other things Kenji couldn't even name. He didn't know how, but the sight was easily more terrifying than Kenshin's earlier rage.

The next instant, his father blinked, and it was all gone; his eyes and face were again cold and distant. "Fine then, keep your silence. But this conversation is not finished, and until it is you will NOT leave this mountain. I will know if you do. Understood?"

Still disturbed by what he had seen, Kenji could only manage a slight nod. With a final warning look, Kenshin turned and strode back to Hiko's cabin.

* * *

Kenshin closed Hiko's door behind him with a hand that shook with emotion. He had come close, so dangerously close, to striking his son for the second time that day, for the second time in Kenji's entire _life_. His frustrated rage still coursed through his veins, frightening him with its intensity. He sank to his knees next Hiko's futon, struggling to get himself back under control.

"I haven't heard you raise your voice like that in quite some time, Baka Deshi. Finding him hard to control, are you?"

Kenshin closed his eyes and drew a pained breath. His master has quite possibly just made the understatement of the decade. It had been over three weeks since Kenji's sudden disappearance from the dojo. Three weeks of the Tokyo police and the Kyoto Oniwanbanshu failing to find even a single trace of his son. Three weeks of a nearly hysterical Kaoru running through every grisly fate Kenji could have possibly met on the road, and demanding that Kenshin DO something about it already. Three weeks of being nearly as frantic as his wife, terrified that every minute that went by without news was another minute his only child could be lying murdered in a ditch somewhere. His _son_ dead, and he would never know, unless one of his countless enemies from the past had learned of Kenji and conspired to kidnap him with the intentions of torturing the boy and then ransoming his life for his father's.

Yes, the last three weeks had been Kenshin's own personal Hell, almost as bad as when he had thought Kaoru was dead. He had wanted so much to let his anger loose, to rip apart the entire countryside of Japan until he found his son. But that was impossible, and a foolish waste of time and energy, so he'd been forced to keep his rage contained, like a starving dragon pacing behind flimsy wooden bars, held in place only by sheer force of will.

Finally, he and Kaoru had had no choice but to go to Kyoto themselves, for they knew that was where Kenji was heading. Why he had not yet arrived there, when the journey usually took less than two weeks on foot, was something neither parent was willing to contemplate. Almost immediately upon arrival at the Aoiya a week ago, Kenshin had rushed up Hiko's mountain, hoping against hope that Kenji was there.

What he'd found was almost worse than discovering his son's corpse. His master was ill with the flu, deathly so. He had in fact been sick for weeks but had told no one, being at first too stubborn, and then finally too weak, to seek help. Nearly a week's worth of medical attention had improved Hiko's condition immensely, but he was still far from well. The strain for Kenshin had become nearly too much, and by this morning the accumulated stress of everything that had happened had brought him nearly to the breaking point. It was in this state of mind that he'd once again, for the fourth day in a row, sat himself on a large rock by the trail, hoping against hope that his son would finally arrive.

And then, as if in a dream, Kenji had come around the corner. Kenshin's relief had been indescribable; not only was his son alive, he was apparently completely unharmed. His eyes had skimmed over his son, taking in every detail. The boy was obviously tired; his feet dragged stiffly, revealing how sore and blistered they probably were from weeks of walking. His hair was sweaty and scraggly; how long since he'd had a bath? But most surprising of all was the wooden bokken hanging easily from a cord looped around his chest and back, identical to the one Yahiko used to carry the Sakabatou in a way that was more acceptable to the Tokyo police than wearing it at the waist. Kenshin silently gave his approval; at least the boy had had the common sense not to leave Tokyo unarmed.

However, Kenshin's happiness was fleeting, replaced by an unreasoning rage that had come swift, unbidden, and beyond his control.

After all the suffering his family had been through trying to find him, Kenji seemed completely unconcerned about it, and had had the _gall_ to be flippant with him, to act as if Kenshin been foolish to ever be worried about him in the first place. Something in him had snapped then, and before he'd even thought to move Kenji was lying on the ground, holding his jaw where Kenshin had struck it, staring up at him in open shock. The memory sickened him.

"Kenji…" Kenshin said slowly, bringing his mind back to the present, "doesn't seem to feel he's done anything wrong." He clenched his fists on his knees until his nails bit painfully into his palms. "I don't know what to do."

Hiko carefully pushed himself into a sitting position, reaching for the medicinal tea Kenshin had brought from Kyoto. He grimaced and tossed it back like a shot of sake. "Are you sure this witch's brew will actually work? It's worse than the thrice-damned disease." Pushing the cup away in disgust, he glared at his former student. "What do you mean, you 'don't know what to do'? You've been far too easy on that boy, Kenshin. You've got yourself to blame for this mess, and you know it."

Kenshin frowned. The remark stung. "Shishou, please…"

Hiko grunted and eased himself back down, pulling the blanket up to his neck. "It's freezing in here," he hissed irritably.

Kenshin said nothing. Absently, he brushed sweat from his forehead. It was in fact sweltering in the cabin, but he knew that the stupidly obvious was the last thing his master wanted to hear right now.

There was silence for a time. Then Hiko spoke, his voice quiet, yet strong, with just a trace of accusation. "You really are a fool. Isn't this situation just a bit familiar?"

Kenshin blinked. "What?"

"'What'?" Hiko echoed mockingly. "Idiot, this pain you feel is nothing. Your son is alive, unharmed and back in your sights. Be thankful for that. How do you think it was for ME, knowing I would probably never see you again? And after all the time and effort I put into you. Gods, the two of you are _so_ alike. You're both ungrateful little twits."

Kenshin bristled. He fought to keep his roiling temper in check. "How can you say that? The situations are nothing alike!"

"Nonsense. You told him 'no', so he decided he knew what was best for him and did what he wanted anyway. Obviously, just like a certain other hotheaded young punk I used to know, he has no idea what he's asking for. As his father it was _your_ responsibility to tell him, and it looks like you haven't done your job. You are in no position to complain; a spitfire like that cannot be coddled, he must be _tamed_."

Kenshin gritted his teeth. "Right, because you did such a wonderful job taming _me_?"

Hiko smirked. "Well of course I did, but apparently it didn't do anything for a blockhead too pure-hearted to believe he could ever be used by men for less than honorable purposes. That young man told _me_ I was the fool and walked willingly into the wolf's den. So, I suppose the dragon could not be tamed, but you can't blame me for trying now can you?"

Kenshin bowed his head, shame overcoming his anger. He knew Hiko was right; that didn't make it any easier to accept. "I wanted to keep him away from all this. I don't want him to go down the same path I did! What he wants is madness."

Hiko snorted. "I didn't teach you madness. You did that yourself. I taught you swordmanship, and _that_ is what he wants. _Your_ problem is, for Kenji only the strongest will do. Young men refuse to settle for what they see as second best, as you well know. Your wife's style, noble as its goals are, will never be enough for that boy. I knew that from the first moment I met him. The solution is obvious. Tell him everything. Stop hiding what you've done, and what the consequences were. And do it now, tonight, before he gets it into his head to go _looking_ for a war to join and gets himself killed."

Kenshin opened his mouth to reply, but Hiko cut him off with a look. "Enough, I'm tired."

Kenshin studied his master's face in concern. His shishou _did_ look exhausted; his cheeks were sunken and there were shadows under his eyes. Kenshin suddenly regretted having let his master expend so much valuable energy talking. _But then, it's rare that he will say so much at once. He really must have felt it was necessary._ "I will sleep now," Hiko continued wearily. "Go deal with your boy."

* * *

Despite his exhaustion, sleep would not come. Kenji lay against the tree in the clearing, resigning himself to a long night. His entire body ached, especially his blistered, swollen feet. He felt heavy, like a sack of rice, and he knew that nothing could make him move at that moment, short of being carried. He let his mind drift over the events of the day, trying to make some sense of them. The glowing enthusiasm he'd had that morning, knowing that his long journey was nearly over, had now been completely crushed by Hiko's illness. He knew he shouldn't be surprised; Hiko was only human after all, and he was hardly a young man. But Kenji had grown up hearing stories of his greatness as a warrior, and the handful of times they'd met, Hiko had truly seemed invincible to him. He'd believed that even if he lived to be a grandfather himself, Hiko would still be there on his mountain, making pottery and drinking up Kyoto's supply of fine sake. This reminder of Hiko's mortality was just as painful as his disapproval of Kenji's actions. But, Kenji admitted to himself, it wasn't as if he hadn't known what Hiko's answer would be. Even before he'd left Tokyo, he'd had his doubts about what he was doing, and now they'd been confirmed. _All that effort of coming here, for_**_nothing_**.

Kenji let his gaze drift up to the broad trunk of the tree. He knew this tree; it was the one his father had trained on. Its side, stripped completely clean of bark, was permanently marred by hundreds upon hundreds of sword strikes, all from metal blades, as opposed to the wooden bokken that rested by his side now. Some strokes were short and straight, others long diagonal slashes, and a few were from an angle so steep he knew they must have been delivered from high above the tree. _Ryu Tsui Sen,_ he acknowledged silently. The tree's roots had been damaged too; scars of the technique Kenji knew was called Do Ryu Sen. A ground strike, relying on ken-ki to execute. He'd absorbed much from the stories everyone had told him of his father's many battles, and he'd been looking forward to finally putting that knowledge to use. But it was not to be, and this tree had only one message for him now: deep or shallow, sloppy or precise, the cuts spoke of a level of training he would never experience. His mother absolutely forbade training with a real blade; only Yahiko had the privilege of wielding the Sakabatou. _I missed my chance didn't I? I wasn't born into a war. _

Which brought him to his father, and his strange behavior. Kenji couldn't figure it out. Both his parents were anomalies, actually, and if people asked about them he always evaded the question. How was he supposed to explain that his mother made the money for the family, and that his father did all the housework around the dojo? No one would believe him, and if they did the ridicule would never end. Yahiko only made it worse when he told stories about Kenshin's greatness as a swordsman. Kenji had never even seen him pick up a shinai, and so for a long time he'd been convinced that everyone was lying to him, making up tall tales so he'd like his father better. Not that he actually _disliked_ his father, far from it. Himura Kenshin was a good man, kind and honest. No, what he felt towards him was disappointment. Why in the world would a swordsman that strong just give up and hand his sword over to someone else? How could a former assassin and hero of the revolution possibly be content to do laundry all day? Yet that was the man Kenji knew. Even so, his temper earlier had definitely been real, and it wasn't the pathetic bluffing of a man trying to cover his own weakness. No, today his father had been deadly serious, even dangerous.

_I just don't understand._ Kenji started to get to his feet, and was suddenly struck by just how much he _hurt_. With a surprised gasp he stumbled and promptly fell over the tree root. "Urmph," he mumbled into the dirt. Immediately he jerked his head up and checked to make sure no one was watching. He glanced toward Hiko's cabin. It was quiet. He sighed in relief. _Thank the gods._ Mortification averted, he climbed stiffly to his feet.

He looked down at the bokken still lying in the wet grass. For a moment, he thought about leaving it behind; but only for a moment. Sighing, he picked up the weapon and tucked it his hakama ties. Slowly he made his way to the stand of trees behind Hiko's cabin. A narrow path wound its way through the dense forest, leading to another, much larger clearing on the other side. He emerged from the forest and found himself facing a huge waterfall, which plunged into a large shallow pool at its base. A spire of rock rose up on front of the waterfall, covered in slick grass and mosses. Its height was perfect for practicing leaps and falls. Another of his father's training grounds. Hiko had actually sparred with Kenji here once, when he was very small, barely large enough to hold a shinai. Clinging to the memory, he sat down on a low boulder and laid his fine oak bokken, a gift from his mother, across his lap. He stared sightlessly into the falling water.

"At least you haven't tried to run away again."

Kenji nearly gasped in fright as Kenshin's voice came from right behind him. Half-spinning around on the rock, he stared up at his father, fully on the defensive. However, Kenshin wasn't even looking at him; he was gazing out at the water, his eyes distant.

Feelings confused, Kenji fell back on anger. "What do you want?"

Something flickered briefly across Kenshin's face. There was banked fire in his eyes when he looked at his son. "I would strongly suggest you stop taking that insolent tone with me. I've had quite enough of it. You are the one who is in trouble here."

Kenji gripped the rock tightly with his fingers. "How is it that I'm in trouble? I'm fifteen now. I'm old enough to make my own choices."

"Even if those choices hurt those closest to you?" Kenshin asked quietly.

"You keep saying that. Who have I harmed?"

Kenshin's eyes narrowed. "You cannot possibly be that stupid. I _know_ you aren't. Have you forgotten who _your_ master is? Do you think your mother will easily forgive you for what you've done? You betrayed her and everything she's taught you by leaving. You've hurt her, and me, deeply. I will ask you one more time. _Why are you doing this_?"

Kenji felt like he was going to explode. "Why are you acting like this?" he demanded, evading the question. "You've never reprimanded me like this before."

"Which apparently was a mistake. One I mean to rectify now."

That struck Kenji as a bit ominous, and he had to force down a sudden nervousness. "I'm not a little kid anymore; you don't have to worry about me! I can do things on my own!"

"No, you can't. You are only a boy."

Kenji bristled. "I'm not!"

Kenshin gave him a patronizing look. "Is that so?"

Kenji gritted his teeth. "Yes."

"Because only a child would have done what you've done; thrown a tantrum and stormed off when the adults didn't tell him what he wanted to hear. How very mature of you."

Now it was Kenji's turn to step closer. "How can you judge what I've done? Isn't that just what you did to Hiko-sama? You were strong enough to become a hitokiri when you were younger than me!"

"That's right," Kenshin said in a steady, very quiet voice. "By fifteen I had already murdered over a hundred men in cold blood. I went on to kill hundreds more. My master told me _exactly_ what would happen to me if I left him. I was warned. But I thought he was a fool, and I left anyway. You have NO comprehension of who and what I was, Kenji. Hitokiri Battousai was a child, with too much power and not enough common sense. Not nearly enough. I waded in blood for five years. I lost my wife because of my own carelessness, and my sanity nearly went with her. I can see you starting down the same path. Look at what you've done so far in the past month. Look at what you're _doing_. I will _not_ stand by and let you ruin your future, chasing a legend that doesn't exist!"

Kenji started to argue, but Kenshin cut over him. "No! Listen to me. Forget what Yahiko told you. Forget what Kaoru told you. If you learned the Mitsurugi, what on earth would you do with it? Teach it to others? Fight for the police, or the government? Use it in a war? Any of those things can and will lead to death, by _your_ hand. It is not a question of if, but _when_." He paused for a moment to let that sink in. He watched the frantic movement of Kenji's eyes, caught between comprehension, fear, and stubborn denial. "Are you prepared for that? Do you really want to know what it's like to kill a man?"

Kenji tore away and walked over to the water, shaking with anger. "Why do you keep saying I'm going to kill someone? Do you think I'm some kind of horrible person who-who'll go around just _murdering_ people for no reason?"

Kenshin's voice was infuriatingly calm and logical. "That's exactly what I did with it."

Kenji half-turned to stare at him. Kenshin continued. "That's what the Hiten Mitsurugi is _for_, Kenji. Do you think the Bakumatsu was like point-fighting in a dojo? Neat and clean fights where no one really gets hurt, and it only matters who has the best technique? That's not what war is like."

"I'm not going to kill people," Kenji repeated stubbornly. "I'm not _you_!"

His father's reaction was not quite what he expected. Kenshin, for a moment, said nothing; but he looked more flustered than Kenji had ever seen him. His face was actually flushed, and the night breeze had picked up, blowing Kenshin's hair about. It didn't quite register with Kenji that the surrounding trees weren't moving. Abruptly, the wind settled, and Kenshin's eyes gleamed with barely controlled rage. "Fine," he bit out, "then then you're also not like the dozens of other swordsman I either knew or faced in battle, who constantly sought better techniques to promote their own strength. They all insisted they wouldn't hurt anyone _without just cause_, but in the end they found themselves involved in bloodbaths anyway. I was no different from them, and believe me you'll find a reason to justify your actions as a swordsman, and those reasons, no matter how flawed, will seem perfectly sensible to you. I joined Choushu because I thought it would help people be free from the suffering and death I saw all around me. When the imperialists asked me to destroy the Bakufu, and to do it through killing men, I didn't know what I was agreeing to."

Kenshin began to steadily walk forward; Kenji stood still, watching him in stunned silence. "Once I found out, it was too late. I stood in the Kyoto streets night after night with the blood of men running down my face and soaking my clothes, and their body parts lying scattered on the ground all around me, and even then _I still didn't understand_. I didn't know I'd become a mindless tool of death, a murdering _monster_."

Kenji broke in with a panicked look. "You…you're not…you're not a—"

"I was, and I _am_. Don't you remember the day you came home upset by the horrible stories the children at school had told you about Battousai? How eventually you learned that _I_ was the man in those stories? Even now they still tell nightmare tales about the person I was. It's _real_ Kenji, everything I did, and I am telling you now that it wasn't worth the price. I want to say that the Meiji government has been the best thing for Japan, but the truth is it's fraught with nearly as much corruption as the Bakufu. Hiten Mitusurgi Ryu was _never_ intended to protect the weak from harm; its sole purpose is to kill, and kill as many as possible at once. It is a tool of war and death, no more and no less. That is why Kamiya Kasshin Ryu is _better_ than the Hiten."

Kenji's eyes flashed. "No, nothing is better! I want to be strong, and Kamiya Kasshin isn't enough!"

Kenshin made an exasperated noise. "WHY do you want to be strong Kenji? Give me a reason, a real reason!"

The boy's voice rose to a shout. "Because you were a legend, you were unbeatable, and I'm your son! You should give me what is mine by right!"

Kenshin stepped back, eyes narrowed to slits. There was a furious quaver to his voice when he spoke. "Ah, so now we come to the real issue. This is about Yahiko and the Sakabatou isn't it? You want what you haven't yet earned."

Kenji straightened to his full height. "Oh I've earned it. I've worked my whole life to prove I'm strong enough to learn the Hiten."

Kenshin gave his son a long, hard look. "So," he asked in a steel-edged voice, "you think you're stronger than me? You think you can play this game? Well then." Kenji blinked as his father stepped back into a neutral stance, tucking his hands away in his sleeves. "Come at me."

Kenji's face slackened in surprise. "What, you're…serious? I've never seen you fight at all!"

Kenshin smiled grimly. "Well, this should be easy then, shouldn't it?"

Kenji blinked in shock, the bokken suddenly feeling very heavy at his waist. "But…you don't even have a weapon…"

"It doesn't matter," Kenshin said evenly.

It took a second for that to sink in, and when it did Kenji scowled, sucking in his breath with a sharp hiss. Kenshin simply waited in silence, observing his son with an unconcerned air.

Kenji's right hand drifted to the bokken's hilt. He gripped it until his knuckles turned white, trying to control the tremble that ran up his whole arm. _He can't be serious! _

Yet he was; Kenji could see it in his eyes. Kenshin's gaze carried an unmistakable challenge, one Kenji knew he could not refuse.

"If I beat you, will you teach me?" he asked.

"We shall see."

"So that's a yes?"

"No."

Kenji's grip tightened angrily. It suddenly no longer mattered whether there was a deal or not; he was being mocked. He drew the weapon from his belt and sank into stance. _He hasn't practiced swordplay in years. I can defeat him, especially if he's unarmed..._ He swallowed hard, knowing he was really trying to convince himself.

Kenji breathed deeply, then lunged forward with all his strength and speed. Nothing could hold him back now; not his pain, nor his fears. There was only Kenshin, and the obstacle he represented. _I'll prove I'm worthy!_

He lifted the bokken up above his head with a sharp battle cry. Kenshin simply watched him with calm eyes, not even flinching as the shaft of wood swung straight at his head.

For an instant, Kenji thought he'd won; then Kenshin _moved_. He vanished from sight; a heartbeat later Kenji felt a _presence_ appear right behind him. With a yelp he spun and dove to the side, swinging the bokken blindly. He caught a glimpse of his father easily evading the strike. Kenshin darted backwards. Kenji instinctively followed, and he tried desperately, again and again, to score a hit. Kenshin however seemed to flow like water, moving backwards, around and from side to side almost faster than Kenji could follow. The boy covered his increasing alarm with a swift flurry of strikes, but none could touch the older man.

They chased each other up and down the shore of the lake, Kenshin always staying one step ahead. Kenji's fury finally boiled over, and he looked at his father, who had paused briefly a few feet away, saw his chance. Adrenaline overcame his body's soreness, and he launched himself into the air, plunging back downward in a Ryu-Tsui-Sen aimed straight for his father's head.

A hand rose up to hit him square in the chest. Kenji blinked in shock; Kenshin was right by him in the air. _How can he—?_ "Bad move, Son," came a whisper in his ear. The hand on his chest tightened around the collar of his gi, and then he was pulled _down_.

The next few seconds were a blur of confused motion. As he fell, a fist drove with unbelievable force into his gut, the world spun upside down, and then he was flat on his back in the grass, his own bokken pressed hard against his jugular. Gasping in horrified shock, Kenji stared up the length of the weapon and met Kenshin's cold, shadowed gaze. Father and son stared at each other. Kenji's labored breathing was the only sound that could be heard over the thunderous waterfall.

"Not…possible…" he whispered finally.

"What's not possible?" Kenshin asked, irritated. Kenji realized with a mixture of fury and awe that his father wasn't even winded. "Surely you don't think I have been idle in my swordplay all these years. Just because I can't use the Hiten Misturugi anymore doesn't mean I can't practice standard swordsmanship."

Kenji almost groaned aloud at the enormity of his error. "But you never…not even a shinai! You never sparred with me, never shared what you knew! You hid your strength from me, why?" The last word was distorted with pain. He stared up at Kenshin in open agony. "WHY?"

The swordsman was silent for a moment. "So that you would not want it. Do not think that I am proud of this strength; it came at tremendous human cost." He relaxed the pressure of the bokken, letting it drop to rest on Kenji's shoulder. "I feel nothing but shame and regret for what I was. I lived in a world where swords were used only to gain power over others; in my ignorance, I believed in that world, and helped to promote it. Joining the war was the worst mistake of my life, and it nearly destroyed my soul. Your mother's dream, Kamiya Kasshin Ryu's dream, is an age where swordsmanship is just that; a way the weak can be protected without death. I would see that world come to pass, no matter the cost to me, or to you. You are a talented swordsman Kenji, and I am proud of what you've accomplished, but there is nothing for you to inherit from me, no legacy to pass on. I am no hero, and I am certainly nothing to admire. I will not teach what I know to be morally wrong. Accept it."

Kenji glared sullenly at the ground, no longer able to meet Kenshin's eyes. He heard a sound, and looked up to see his father striding away through the grass, bokken still in hand. "H-hey, that's mine!"

"When we get back to Tokyo perhaps," Kenshin said over his shoulder as he walked into the trees. "We leave for the Aoiya in the morning. Be ready."

Kenji stared after him in disbelief. _He beat me so easily…and he didn't even have a weapon. _His body finally gave out, and he sank back down into the grass, eyes drifting closed. _I don't understand._ _To protect the weak, don't I need strength like his? No matter what he says, I'll be as good as him; no, I'll be **better**. I won't make his mistakes. Never…_ With that promise, he slipped into an exhausted slumber.

_To be continued…_

A/N: Delays, delays…they are going to be the rule for this fic. What was it this time, 6 months? Hopefully the fact that this chapter was extra long helps make up for it a little. Major, major kudos go to two people, my fabulous beta Ranma151773012 and the talented Nekotsuki, for their extensive help with proofreading, sentence flow, and especially character development in this very difficult chapter. This has been one of the hardest I've ever written. It was an impressive struggle keeping father, son and adoptive grandfather in character and in conflict, while building tension throughout the chapter. I hope it all works! Next time: tons of action next chapter; we learn more about the bad guys, and we see that Kenji actually has a social life! Should be fun :D Thank you all for being such loyal readers, look forward to chapter 5, hopefully sooner than later!


	5. Fallen Dragon

Clearing Skies

by Calger459

Chapter 5: Fallen Dragon

Disclaimer: All Rurouni Kenshin characters belong to Nobuhiro Watsuki and other license holders. I'm just borrowing them for a bit of fun.

On with the fic!

Kenji was running. Running from what, he wasn't sure. The air was cold against his sweat-dampened skin, and his feet ached from the pounding they were taking as he plunged wildly down the moonlit streets. _Where am I?_ The buildings were a dark blur on either side of him. _Kyoto_. The word came unbidden as he skidded around a sharp turn. _I'm in Kyoto_. He knew these streets; they were the ones near the Aoiya, where he had spent so much time when he was younger. Through a gap in the buildings he glimpsed the ornate entrance of Gion shrine in the distance. Yes, that was definitely where he was.

His lungs burned and his vision shook violently as he ran. He could feel something behind him, a looming predatory presence that drove him forward down the narrow alley at a breakneck pace. It had every intention of hunting him down. _It's closing for the kill.__What did I do_? The teenager's chest tightened in fear and his vision tunneled as he ran out of air. He tripped on something and stumbled, smacking his knee against a storage bin butted up against a wall. Kenji let out a cry of pain and fell messily, crashing down on a pile of debris in the alley.

He put a hand down to push himself up, and felt rough cloth. Looking down, he noted with surprise that he was gripping bright blue fabric. _What is it?_ His gaze traveled further, and he looked directly into a pair of glazed, dead eyes. It was a person, he realized with dawning horror. Choking back a scream, he yanked himself away from the body, which had been nearly sliced in half. He looked around frantically, taking in the blood-soaked cobblestone alley. Several other bodies littered the ground, all dressed in the same blue coats. A few were missing heads. Most of their weapons had been broken. _Who did this?_ He shrank back against the wall, panting and shaking. He felt stickiness on his hands and he stared in disbelief at the blood covering them. _From the dead man_? Lurching to his feet, he staggered forward, trying not to step on the corpses filling the alley. _I have to get out of here!_

He reached the end, and started to step out into the street. Something in him screamed a warning, and he instinctively yanked his foot back and pressed himself flat to the wall, staring out into the open space beyond with wide eyes. The street was filled with blue-coated men, which he realized could only be members of the Shinsengumi. They were dying quickly, one by one being struck down by a small dark figure moving among them with inhuman speed. The killer's body was a dark blur; all Kenji could really see was moonlight flashing off his katana as he struck again and again with deadly efficiency. The men tried to defend themselves, but it was useless. Kenji pressed a hand to his mouth as one soldier panicked, turned and tried to run for the protection of the alley. He never made it. There was bright flash, and the blade which had entered the back of the man's neck thrust upward, spraying blood toward the sky. Kenji stared in open mouthed horror as the man's head was torn clean off. The killer followed the path of the falling body, flipping over it in a strangely graceful somersault to land silently on his feet.

The figure straightened up, flicking the blood from his sword in a sharp _chiburi_. The swordsman stepped out of the shadows into the full moonlight, and Kenji felt his legs give way. Ember-red hair, tied into a high ponytail, flowed around the man's soft, boyish face. Only the eyes weren't those of a boy at all; Kenji didn't know _what_ they were exactly, but they didn't seem human somehow. The boy's pale amber eyes were flat and expressionless, like those of the corpses back in the alley. _Scarred demon with hair of fire_. The description rang in his mind, as clear as the day he'd heard it from one of his classmates at school. _Battousai_. He shook his head in instinctive denial; though he recognized the face, he couldn't accept it. "You're not him," he said aloud. "You can't be!"

The swordsman inclined his head and fixed Kenji with a look which could almost have been called curious, if it had any life to it at all. "I'm not what?"

Kenji jumped at the voice. He knew that voice, had known it his entire life. Only it was…different somehow. Colder. Harder. And yet younger. _What is he?_

Battousai's eyes narrowed at Kenji's silence. Without another word, he pulled a small sheet of paper from his gi and wiped down the sword, cleaning the blood off with the speed of long practice. He sheathed it and pulled the weapon from his obi, flipping it around to offer it to Kenji.

The boy shrank from the weapon. There was blood on its hilt. "I don't want that!"

"Don't you?" the hitokiri asked, his inflection neutral. "Isn't that why you're here?"

There was a clatter, and Kenji looked down to where the bloodied katana had been thrown at his feet. Battousai fixed him with a hard, unyielding glare. "Don't be naive. This is what you wanted. This what Hiten Mitsurugi will give you."

"NO!" he shouted. He jumped to his feet and backed away. "You're not my father! He would never do this!"

"Fool." It was just one word, but from Battousai it was the greatest threat Kenji could imagine. "Either pick up the sword or don't. But this is the truth."

Kenji shook his head again and backed away. The hitokiri watched him, then bent to pick up the sword. What happened next was so swift Kenji couldn't follow it; all he knew was the hitokiri was bearing down on _him_ now, sheathed blade tilted back ready to deliver a fatal _battou-jutsu_. The boy turned and ran for it, jumping over the bodies in his way. He felt the icy wind of the steel blade flying toward his neck…

…and suddenly felt a sword in his hand. Acting completely on instinct, he swung around and felt his blade meet the hitokiri's with a violent, scraping shudder. He looked across the crossed blades directly into the other's flat eyes. He tried to see something there, some shred of compassion or humanity. There was nothing. "You _can't_ be him," he insisted.

The hitokiri's reply was not what he expected. "But you _could_ be me, in time."

Battousai shoved hard against him and Kenji spun away, trying to regain his balance, sword flailing. He was aware on some level of being out in the street again, and in the open space he crouched and spun to keep from falling, bringing his blade around in a tight circle. He never saw the man who came running out from another side street, couldn't stop the spinning blade from sinking deep into his unprotected torso.

The forward momentum of the man's run caught the blade and yanked Kenji off his feet; he fell forward with a shout and landed on top of the body. He lay there stunned as the man flailed in agony beneath him. As fast as he could he got up, not thinking as he tried to pull the sword out from the horrible wound. "I-I'm sorry I didn't…"

His words died as he recognized the man's very familiar blue and white outfit and spiky hair. He dropped the sword as if were a venomous snake. "No…" he whispered. It was all he could think to say.

Yahiko's struggles weakened and he turned his head to stare up at Kenji, the life already fading from his large brown eyes. "Kenji…why…"

"Brother!" Kenji sobbed, falling to his knees. "Brother, I'm so sorry, I didn't know!"

Yahiko's eyes drifted shut and he lay still. Kenji stared in disbelief at the body and felt as if he had been the one who'd been stabbed; he curled around the pain in his chest, shaking with horror, fear, and sudden self-loathing. It was long moments later that he forced himself to look up at Battousai, who stood just a few feet away, watching in silence. "Didn't you see him?" he finally said, voice shaking. "Why didn't you do anything? Why didn't you warn me!"

"People will die by your hand. Sometimes by accident," Battousai said simply. "It's not my place to stay your hand."

"I would NEVER do this!" Kenji screamed, pounding the street with his fist. "NEVER!"

"You just did," the hitokiri pointed out with icy logic. "Now you must live with it. Just as I did."

Kenji ran blindly at him with a hoarse cry and swung his fist at Battousai's face. He was startled when the hitokiri didn't even try to dodge; he took the blow stoically, grabbing and holding on to Kenji's shoulders as the boy sobbed and flailed at his chest, over and over and over…

"Kenji."

Kenji jerked and turned away from the hand touching him, squeezing his eyes more tightly shut.

"Kenji, wake up!"

He gasped and came awake, staring up into a pair of concerned violet eyes. _Not amber_, he thought, shaking still with the horror of his nightmare. _Not amber, NOT amber._

Kenshin looked down at him. "Are you all right? It's time to leave."

"Yahiko!" Kenji said, still caught in the dream. "Yahiko is…" his voice faded as he came back to himself. He felt the grass against his back, and the hot morning sun beating down on him. He was in Hiko's forest, he realized, by the waterfall. He wasn't in Kyoto, and Yahiko wasn't really dead. _A dream_. He sank back with relief and closed his eyes, pressing his hands to his face. _Only a dream_. _Thank the gods…_

He could feel Kenshin's puzzled gaze on him, but he didn't want to look at his father just yet. "I'm all right," he finally said. "I'll be there in a minute."

There was an awkward silence, and he wondered what his father could possibly be thinking right now. "All right, I'll be waiting then. Don't take too long." Kenshin's light footsteps receded through the grass. After they were gone, Kenji uncovered his eyes and rolled onto his side, staring at the sparkling water of the river. _Battousai_. Swallowing hard, he shoved the memory of his nightmare from his mind and headed for the water to wash his face.

* * *

Kenji came out of the woods twenty minutes later and plopped down next to his travel bag, which he'd left by the large tree the night before. He rested his head on his knees briefly, deliberately ignoring Kenshin who was standing nearby, waiting with an increasingly impatient air. "Kenji, what are you doing? Let's go."

"Hungry," The boy said simply. Something bounced by his feet and he glanced down at a wrapped package.

"You can eat on the way," Kenshin explained. He turned to leave.

Kenji glanced toward Hiko's cabin, then back at his father. "Wait! What about Hiko-sama?"

Kenshin glanced back over his shoulder. "He's all right for now. One of the others will be by later to check on him."

Kenji blinked. "Others? You mean the Oniwabanshu?"

A distinctly disgusted snort came from inside the cabin. "I don't want those barbarians coming up here!"

Kenshin's mouth twitched in a brief smile. "Don't worry Shishou, they won't stay long. I'll be back tomorrow."

A noncommittal grunt was the only reply, and Kenji couldn't help but smile himself. "He sounds like he's feeling better."

Kenshin's smile faded, and without replying he turned and walked toward the trail which led down the mountain.

Kenji stood up and slung his bag over one shoulder. He started after his father, then hesitated, staring at the cabin. This was it, he realized. If he left the mountain now any hope of learning Hiten Mitsurugi was gone.

_Hiko wouldn't do it even if he were well though. That's what he said._ But then, Kenji allowed reluctantly, it wasn't really the old man's job to pass on the school. It was his father's. Profound disappointment burned in him, and he clenched his free fist by his side. _I can't give up. Somehow, I have to convince Father_. His hand went limp again as he thought of the enormity of the task. It seemed impossible.

He felt his father's annoyed glare on him. "Kenji!"

After one more moment's hesitation, Kenji willed his feet forward. He couldn't believe they were leaving Hiko alone up here, still not at all well. He closed his eyes, wishing desperately that he could stay. "Be well, Grandfather," he whispered.

* * *

The birds sang cheerily as they picked their way down the winding mountain path. The trail in fact barely existed; the only one who ever traveled it regularly was Hiko, so Kenji and Kenshin were forced to wind around trees and climb over boulders as they made their way down. Kenji admitted to himself that he wouldn't be able to follow this path on his own without getting lost; he was a bit grateful his father knew the way so well. But the fact that they were leaving still made him furious. Unable to retaliate in any other way at the moment, he resorted to glaring at Kenshin's back, sending his displeasure in waves toward the older man. _I know you can feel it. You can sense ki. When are you going to teach **me** to do that? Probably never, if you have your way._ He bared his teeth at his father's back.

If Kenshin felt his son's anger, he didn't acknowledge it. He did however pick up the pace slightly, and Kenji realized that if he wanted to eat, he'd have to do it on the move. Ripping open the package, which turned out to be rice balls, he started wolfing them down, trying not to trip on anything.

He ate rather noisily, and after a moment Kenshin glanced back at him. "Kenji, when did you eat last?"

"Dunno," he said, mouth full of rice. "I…uh…." He hesitated. "I sort of…ran out of money."

Kenshin looked forward again, and there was a moment of heavy silence. "Ah, yes," he said tightly. "The money you stole from our room."

Kenji choked on the rice, staring at Kenshin's back in alarm. He swallowed hastily, wincing as he forced the barely-chewed food down. "I uh…I can explain…"

"No, you can't," Kenshin snapped icily. "How on earth did you spend that much yen by yourself?"

"Hey, I earned that money!" Kenji shot back indignantly. "Working in the dojo!"

"Strange, I don't believe that's the arrangement you had with your mother."

Kenji bit back a harsh reply; something about Kenshin's tone was reminding him uncomfortably of his dream. Obviously his father was still very angry with him, and he decided that inciting the former hitokiri's wrath further was probably not a good idea. Shivering slightly, he ate the rest of his breakfast quietly.

Some time later they finally reached the base of the trail. Kenji let his father lead the way back to Kyoto. As the morning wore on the path through the fields and small villages grew more crowded with pedestrians and wagons, and they ended up walking close together to keep from being separated. Kenshin attracted a lot of stares as usual; even though there were quite a few foreigners in Japan these days, people still weren't used to differently colored hair, especially not red.

Kenji scanned their faces, but didn't sense any real danger. People were whispering and pointing, but they didn't seem to be connecting his father's features with the stories of Battousai. _At least not out here in the country_, Kenji amended. There was always the risk in Kyoto proper of his father being recognized for who he used to be. It was just one of the many reasons why he avoided the city as much as he could, visiting briefly only once a year. _Even though the war was so long ago, people still can't forgive him. _Kenji frowned at his father's back. His dream had made him realize just how difficult he still found it to believe that the Kenshin he knew as his parent could ever have been a hitokiri…could ever have killed people. He wondered if his father could feel his confusion; he wondered if he cared.

_Of course he cares…he went to all that effort to find me_. The boy swallowed and hugged his arms. His body was really aching now, especially his feet. "Father?"

"Yes?" Kenshin's voice was neutral again.

Kenji eyed his father worriedly; how long did he stay mad _for_, exactly? "Are we really walking _all_ the way back to Kyoto?"

"Of course."

"But why? Couldn't we get a carriage or something? We have a long way to go still."

"No."

"But it's so hot! And I'm really worn out."

"And whose fault is that?" Kenshin asked mildly, still keeping his gaze forward. "I promise you'll survive a few more hours."

"But…"

Kenshin stopped abruptly, and Kenji nearly ran into him. His father turned and fixed him with a severe stare. "Stop. _Whining_." He spun on his heel and continued.

"…yes sir," he whispered, trailing a respectful distance behind.

* * *

They fought the late lunch crowds toward the Aoiya. By now Kenji was in serious pain and he limped increasingly behind Kenshin. Part of him was strongly tempted to just vanish into the crowd, anything to avoid the confrontation he knew was coming. He'd already been reprimanded by his father; now it was his mother's turn. His throat clenched. _She's gonna kill me_.

The Aoiya came in sight, and Kenji spotted Omasu at the entrance, waving customers in. It didn't take her long to notice Kenshin coming through the crowd. "Oh, Himura-san you're back! And you've found Kenji-kun!"

Kenshin nodded, and Kenji didn't think he'd ever seen Omasu look so relieved. She ran inside and he could hear her shouting the news to everyone. _So much for a quiet entrance. _He kept his face low as he followed Kenshin into the inn. Omasu directed them away from the main part of the building to the private end where the Oniwabanshu lived.

Kenji let out a breath as the doors closed behind him and the sounds of the inn faded away. He was here now, for better or worse. He stood awkwardly in the entranceway, feeling very out of place even though he'd spent much of his childhood here. He watched as his father removed his zori and stepped up onto the _tatami_ of the receiving room. He sat down at the low table and slumped tiredly against it, obviously exhausted. He didn't look at Kenji, and after a moment's very awkward silence, he looked toward Omasu, who was standing nearby. "Where's my mother?" he asked.

Her sudden shadowed expression alarmed him. "She's here Kenji-kun, but if I were you… I'd let her come to you."

"Oh," he said faintly, feeling sick inside. She gave him a sympathetic, yet slightly worried smile and vanished through a doorway. Kenji remained where he was, unsure what to do next.

The sudden sound of approaching, pounding feet decided that for him. "KENJI!"

He braced himself for the impact, but that didn't help too much as Misao took a flying leap from a doorway and side-tackled him. His arms pinwheeled as his travel pack overbalanced him, and he crashed to the floor. He flailed about and tried to shove the small female ninja off him. "M-Misao-san!"

His right side gave a sharp, painful throb and he couldn't stop himself from crying out. Misao didn't seem to have noticed as she grabbed him by the front of his shirt and hauled him to his feet, holding him firmly at arm's length. He stared blearily into her face, and was honestly startled by the furious look in her large blue eyes. "Welcome back!" she said with a dangerous grin.

Kenji's eyes widened as she raised a hand. "What…"

Kenshin's head snapped around at the sound of the resounding slap which echoed through the small space. Kenji staggered backward then fell to his knees, holding his face and staring up at Misao. "That's for worrying us half to death!" she snarled at him. A second later she knelt and wrapped her arms around his shoulders in a gentle embrace. She leaned her forehead against his. "Thank goodness you're safe, you big idiot."

Kenji blinked slowly and kept still, uncertain how to respond. Through her hair he could see his father staring at him with a sharp, thoughtful expression. Had he noticed he was hurt? After a moment, apparently deciding the show was over, his father looked away and went back to studying the patterns on the wall screens.

Misao abruptly pulled back, nose wrinkled in distaste. "Oh _ew_! Look at you, when did you have a bath last?"

Now the boy flushed in embarrassment. "Err, well…I haven't really had the time you know…"

"That's so _gross_!" she gasped, horrified. "I can't believe I actually _hugged_ you! All right, you're getting a bath. Now!"

"Uh…what?"

"You heard me." Misao pulled him to his feet again, got behind him and shoved him up onto the _tatami_. He barely had time to kick off his shoes as she pushed him down the hall, still railing against his smell.

Kenshin stared after them in bemusement. He glanced toward Omasu, who had reappeared. She smiled. "Kaoru-chan will be out in a moment, Himura-san. How is Hiko-sama today?"

* * *

Kenji sank gratefully into the hot water, letting out a long, contented sigh. It hadn't taken him long to realize why Misao had been so disgusted by him; it had taken several buckets of water and a lot of scrubbing to get all the filth and grime he'd accumulated off him. To be honest, he really hadn't noticed how bad it had gotten; he'd been much to preoccupied with the stress of his trip to worry about being clean.

He leaned back against the side of the wooden tub and closed his eyes. The heat of the water soothed the still-healing injury on his side, and after several minutes he couldn't feel it at all anymore. For the first time since he'd left Tokyo he himself really relax. It was quiet here, and for a moment he could forget about everything that had happened to him on this journey, and the people he still had to face back in the Aoiya. He was so tempted to sleep, and it took a great effort to force his eyes back open. "Drowning in a tub, now _that_ would be a stupid way to die," Kenji mused.

He stared at the ceiling instead and watched in mild fascination as steam condensed into droplets on the heavy wooden beams and dripped back down, hitting the floor with a faint _plink_. The drips continued, and he focused on the cycle of the water, trying not to think about yesterday, or this morning, or having to face his mother once he got out of here. The very thought made him cringe, and he wondered why it had never occurred to him that he might have to answer to his sword master eventually.

_Because you were expecting to learn Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu_, a snide voice said in his mind. _Maybe with that, she would have been so impressed she would have forgiven you._ "Well then I'm just dumb," he muttered aloud, pressing his hands to his face. He knew his mother better than that. His father was exactly right; by leaving he had shown exactly what he thought of Kamiya Kasshin Ryu, and directly insulted his _sensei_. He wasn't going to come out of this particular situation unscathed, that he was sure of.

For several more moments he tried to just enjoy the water, stretching his sore limbs and rubbing his swollen feet. Soon though the steam died away and the water started to cool. He checked his fingers and smirked; they were already wrinkly. _Guess it's time to get out_. He looked toward the door in apprehension. "Gods help me," he whispered.

At that exact moment, the bathhouse door slid open with sharp, authoritative _snap_. Kenji yelped and ducked down into the water, causing a small wave of water to slosh out of the tub.

"Kenji, stop that! This floor was just cleaned."

_Misao?_ Kenji raised his head cautiously and peered over the edge of the tub. Indeed, the Oniwabanshu _okashira_ was standing there in her casual daily ninja gear, a large roll of bandages and a small box tucked under one arm. She slid the door shut behind her and walked up to the tub.

His eyes widened in alarm. "W-what are you doing in here?! Get out!"

"Don't be stupid," she snapped irritably. She hooked the bathing stool behind her with one foot and dragged it forward, depositing the bandages and box on it. "You think I didn't notice you're hurt? I'm sure your dad didn't miss it either. Just who do you think you're fooling, huh?"

Kenji suppressed a small surge of panic and sank deeper into the tub, so that his nose was barely above water.

"I'm waiting for an answer, Ken-chan."

He scowled and raised his head. "I'm not a little kid anymore! Stop calling me that."

"My, aren't we being a little jerk today," she observed mildly. "Well since you seem determined to not answer anything directly, then I'll share a secret with you." She crossed her arms and propped her elbows on the side of the tub, looking down at him. "Everyone here has spent the past month looking everywhere for you, and I mean _everywhere_. I guess I taught you a little too well." She frowned. "But you weren't careful enough, Kenji. We caught wind of your little fight in that village, and we know you saw the doctor there. Apparently you were hurt badly enough you hung out there for almost a week before moving on."

Kenji had the grace to look sheepish. "So you all…did know I was okay then?"

"Of course we didn't!" she snapped furiously. "We got someone down there maybe the day after you left, and by then you'd vanished on us again. Kaoru-san's been an absolute wreck, and your dad hasn't been much better. You've been a royal pain in the ass Kenji, and the _least_ you're going to do is let me look at that wound. I heard you cry out earlier, and when I asked Himura he said you were limping all the way here!"

_Damn it, why does he have to notice **everything**?! _"I'm fine," he growled, glaring up at her. "It's….it's almost healed, okay? It's just been a little sore."

"Bull," she spat. "Stand up."

"What?!"

"You heard me."

"I'm not a little boy!" he repeated stubbornly, feeling his face flush. "I can't let you…you know…."

"Oh please, it's not like I haven't seen it before. I'm not your girlfriend, I'm your aunt. Now stand up." There was a definite note of command in her voice now, and for once she actually seemed her age, only a year younger than his mother.

Kenji stood very slowly and reluctantly, keeping his back to her. He knew she'd see the red welt on his right side where the arrow had passed through him. The doctor he'd seen had told him it was miracle it hadn't hit anything vital.

Misao's sharp hiss through her teeth confirmed that assessment. "What in the hell did that to you?"

"It's nothing," he insisted, cheeks burning. He could feel her prodding at it. "I took care of it."

"You call getting into a sparring match with Himura 'taking care of it'? This is a deep wound, and it's only a couple weeks old. You're lucky it hasn't started bleeding again. Get out so I can wrap this."

She thrust a towel into his hand and he covered himself hurriedly. It was more difficult than he expected getting back out of the tub; the arrow wound ached deeply now that he was out of the water, and he winced as he sat down one of the other bath stools.

"You're going to have to stand for this, Kenji. Come on." Misao's voice was more gentle now, and he obediently stood still while she took a jar of salve out of the small box she'd brought. She spread the soothing cream over the wound and wrapped it securely with several strips of bandages. "There," she said, giving the wrapping a light pat. "Feel better?"

"Yes," he said gratefully. "Thank you." He started to reach for the clean white yukata lying on the wooden bench attached to the wall.

"Hold on."

He looked back at her. She was sitting down now on the other stool, looking at him. "I need to talk to you for a minute."

He frowned and picked up the yukata. "About what?" He turned away and wrapped the thin robe around him, tying it shut with angry movements. Whatever she wanted to discuss, he knew he wasn't going to like it.

The gentle concern in her voice surprised him a little. "How did you get hurt?"

He didn't answer for a moment. "A couple of bandits snuck up on me in the woods, and I let the one with the knife get too close." He turned back to face her. "I haven't had too much real-life fighting experience you know? Pretty embarrassing really, the whole thing." He attempted a smile.

She gave him a long, searching stare. "That didn't look like a knife wound to me."

"You don't believe me?" he asked her quietly. He hoped that she really hadn't seen though his lie.

"I believe you were in a fight," she said calmly. "But I have trouble accepting that you were so careless a mere thug could have done that to you."

He frowned. After an uncomfortable pause he said, "I can handle this, Misao-san. Don't worry about it."

"Are you sure?" she persisted. "Kenji, whatever is going on in that head of yours these days, I hope you know what you're doing, because the people who love you are suffering for your pride. You understand that, right?"

He looked away guiltily. "I can do this myself," he said quietly. "I'm not a boy."

"But you aren't a man, either." He shot her a furious look, but Misao didn't react the way he thought she would; instead of angry, she just looked slightly sad, an expression he wasn't used to seeing on her face.

She sighed heavily and ran fingers through her thick rough-cut hair. "I've known you a long time, Kenji. You're a very proud person, and you're strong. You want to do everything by yourself. But you don't _have_ to be that way all the time. If you need help, or if anyone threatens you, we're here for you no matter what."

That statement had hit a little too close to home and he shifted uncomfortably. Did the Oniwabanshu really not know who had ambushed him near that village, or was Misao trying to make him give something away? He decided to avoid the subject altogether.

"You can't help me with what I want," he said quietly. "Only my father can do that, and he won't."

Now she looked annoyed. "I can't believe what a brat you are sometimes. Don't you care about your parents' feelings at all? You've put them through hell, and for what? A stupid sword style!"

"It's not just a sword style!" he said heatedly, taking an aggressive step forward. "It's…"

"What? What is so important about Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu?" She stood up now, hands fisted at her sides. Kenji eyed her posture warily; she tended be rather violent when upset, and he didn't feel like being on the receiving end of another Keicho Kick at the moment. "Kenji, talk to me. Please."

He looked away, suddenly feeling very awkward and unsure of himself. It was true, he'd always found it much easier to talk to Misao than his parents. Out of everyone, she'd always understood him most. Even so…

"Misao-san…" He took a deep breath and looked up at her, determined. "I know you want to help me. But…this is something I need to do. On my own." He met her eyes at last. _Don't ask me for details. Please don't ask…_

They held gazes for another moment, then to his immense relief she gave the slightest of nods. "All right, Kenji. I'll trust you on this one. I just want you to promise me one thing."

He gave her a questioning look. "Whatever it is that you feel you need to prove to yourself, it's not worth your life. I want to you promise me that you won't bite off more than you can chew, go it alone unnecessarily, and end up dead. If you do something that stupid, I won't forgive you. Got it?"

Kenji finally smiled, a real smile, and was rewarded by the look of relief on her face. "I promise."

* * *

Kenshin didn't move from the low table after Kenji had gone to bathe. Instead he waited for his wife. Omasu hovered nearby, occasionally shooting him concerned glances. He imagined he looked pretty haggard. He hadn't been able to sleep at all once he'd returned to Hiko's cabin last night. He'd just sat there staring into space, going over the events of Kenji's arrival over and over in his mind.

Part of him still couldn't believe how he'd treated his son. He'd never shown any kind of violence toward his child before. It just wasn't in his nature, and he'd shocked himself with his aggressive anger, which he acknowledged had been building steadily in the weeks since Kenji's disappearance. Their brief sparring match weighed heavily on his mind too. Had he done the right thing, challenging his son like that? It was not something he'd planned to do originally, it had just sort of…happened. _I let my temper get out of control, which is unacceptable. Did I really get through to him, or have I made the problem worse? Does Kenji want Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu more than ever now? _

WithOmasu standing there he resisted the urge to bury his face in his hands in frustration. Instead he studied his reflection in the polished wood of the table. This past month had made him feel emotions he hadn't experienced a long time. Panic and fear had knotted his insides for weeks now, and he'd honestly expected Kenji's return to finally ease those feelings. However the anxiety wasn't fading, and he suddenly felt overwhelmed by his exhaustion, both physical and emotional.

What was happening to his son? Kenji was hiding things from him, lying to him. Although the Oniwabanshu had heard vague rumors of a brown-haired boy getting into a fight in a village about a week's walk from Tokyo, they hadn't been able to find out too much more beyond the fact that the boy had seen a doctor and stayed in the village for several days. There was no doubt in his mind now that it had been Kenji; it explained both his delay in arriving at Hiko's mountain and his lack of money. Although Kenji had seemed fine when he'd first arrived, Kenshin had noticed his son's growing pain and weakness. He'd been slow in their fight last night, favoring his right side, and by the time they'd reached the Aoiya he'd been visibly limping.

_Kenji, what happened, and why haven't you said anything? That wound must have been serious if you're still feeling it now. _Who had hurt his son? Maybe they had just been bandits, or a group of local youths. But did he really want to ask Kenji about this? After all, the boy had had the sense to get help at the time, and though the wound was obviously still sore he didn't seem to be in any real danger.

No, Kenshin realized, it wasn't the wound he wanted to ask about, or even who was responsible. Kenji's persistent anger was a much bigger concern. He'd been furious when he'd left Tokyo, upset and frustrated that Kenshin had refused to teach him Hiten Mitsurugi. That was obvious, and even understandable. But after a month of traveling, and especially after having run into trouble on the way, Kenshin would have expected that anger to have faded somewhat. Kenji's behavior yesterday though had proved this wasn't the case at all; the boy still burned with same passionate and indignant fire, laying the blame for his misery completely on his father.

Kenji was clearly willing to go to great lengths to achieve his goal, even if it meant getting hurt. How on earth was Kenshin supposed to handle that? He wanted to help his son, but he knew with deep conviction that it wasn't going to be by teaching Hiten Misturugi. He had to find another way, but what that was he had no idea.

He looked up at the sound of a door sliding open, and met Kaoru's eyes. She looked as exhausted as he felt He forced his confused thoughts into some kind of order. "I found him," he said simply, letting his face convey the rest to her.

She closed her eyes briefly. "I know. Thank you."

Kenshin slowly got to his feet. His entire body was stiff and store, and he couldn't hide how difficult it was to move. _I_ _guess I'm getting a bit too old for random sparring sessions_. He straightened up and did his best to ignore the painful twinges in his back. With an effort he smiled at his wife. "I'm going to go and rest a bit, if that's all right. Kenji went to have a bath."

"Did he." Omasu looked genuinely alarmed at Kaoru's cold tone. "I'm going to help in the kitchen," Kaoru said after a long, strained silence. Without another word she walked past Omasu and out of sight.

The Oniwabansu ninja looked at Kenshin, who merely inclined his head in an apologetic gesture. "She's still very angry," he explained.

TBC….

* * *

A/N: So, did anyone expect to see another whole chapter of Kyoto stuff this time? Neither did I. Originally this part was much shorter, but my ever-wonderful beta pointed out some rather obvious character opportunities I was missing, and in the end drama won, pushing the action right out of this chapter. But that's okay, right? The next chapter is already well under way, and we're finally going to get to the action (I swear!).

Next time: Back in the present, Kenji gets himself into some serious trouble. Can he hold his own against thugs sent for Battousai, or is he in for a real butt-kicking?

A/N #2: Just FYI, I've graduated with my second bachelor's degree and am working on finding full-time employment. So although chapter 6 is already partly written, I have a bit more to go on it, and there are no guarantees on when it will be out. I'll make it as soon as possible. Fair enough? Thanks for reading!


	6. Confrontation

Clearing Skies

by Calger459

Chapter 6: Confrontation

* * *

/_Tokyo. Present_. / 

Once the sake started taking effect, the atmosphere at the table lightened considerably. Sano and Yahiko settled into an easy banter, reminiscing fondly about adventures they'd had long before Kenji was born. They were soon red-faced and boisterous.

Kenji sipped reluctantly at his alcohol. He wasn't used to the drink, and he wasn't feeling particularly thirsty right now anyway. More than anything he just wanted to leave. Something was nagging at him, an unexplainable restless feeling, and it was making him nervous. He found himself constantly glancing towards the Akabeko's front entrance, as though expecting someone to walk through it. He gave himself a mental shake and forced himself to look back at his tablemates. _You're being ridiculous. Everything's fine. _The thought brought little comfort; he knew he was trying to convince himself. _It's like…something's just not right. I don't understand._ He frowned slightly, tapping the rim of his sake cup idly against his lips. He blinked and looked up as Sano's voice rose suddenly.

"So I said to 'im," Sano boomed, his words slurred, "'If you don' leave those ladies alone, I'm gonna kick your ass!' This was all in Chinese though, an' my accent kinda sucks, so they didn't understand me."

Yahiko laughed and tipped a shou of sake over his cup; nothing came out. He shook it experimentally, then scowled. "Didn't stop you though, did it?"

"Hell no! I saved the day. 'course the ladies were…_appreciative_." Sano's face flushed even redder and he stared dreamily into space for a moment. Kenji couldn't keep an expression of slight disgust from his face.

Sano saw this and raised an eyebrow. He leaned forward across the table. "W's wrong Kenji? Y'look all unhappy. What, you never had a lady appreciate you?"

Kenji stared at him, caught off-guard. "What?"

"Ah leave the kid be Sano," Yahiko nearly growled. "He's too young for that."

"Oh come on, he's fifteen!" Sano waved his chopsticks in the air, summoning one of the harried-looking waitresses to the table.

"Yes sir?" she asked quietly, obviously put off by his slovenly appearance.

"This guy here," Sano said, swinging the chopsticks down to point straight at Kenji. "What do you think of 'im?"

"Sagara-san!" Kenji gasped in horror, feeling his face grow hot. "Be quiet!"

"Isn't he handsome?" Sano asked her, giving Kenji a sly look. "Got a sweet little baby face, just like his dad!"

The teenager's eyes narrowed. "Hey, watch it." He had long since lost count of the number of times his father had been mistaken for a woman because of his slight frame and delicate face. Since Kenji resembled him so closely, it was a mistake he often feared people would make of him.

The waitress meanwhile seemed at a loss for words. "Well he is…I mean…a-are you going to order sir?"

"No, he's not," Yahiko muttered tiredly, nearly slumping on the table. "He's already more than wiped out my salary for the week."

Sano scowled at him. "Quit whining. Do you know many days it's been since I ate? Have a heart!"

"Stop being such a worthless freeloader and maybe I'll consider it," Yahiko shot back angrily.

Kenji glanced between them uncertainly. The mood at the table had abruptly changed, and the two older men were now glaring at each other with sudden, palpable resentment.

Sano pushed himself up on one knee and hovered menacingly over Yahiko, who sat tensely next him in the narrow booth. "Say that again, this time while _looking_ at me Myojin Yahiko," he snarled.

The kendo instructor turned in his seat, his posture now calm, but eyes blazing. "I'm saying, you have some damn nerve showing up here after this amount of time without even a letter, expecting free food and housing when we're in no position to provide either."

Sano's eyes flashed dangerously. "Well listen to mister woe-is-me over here, whining as if he's going to starve to death any second! I was under the impression that I was your _friend_, smartass. You don't just withdraw that without good reason, and if I'm going to be treated like_ this _then I'd like know why."

Yahiko's face was a deep red and he looked as if he'd like nothing more than to punch Sano in the face. "You want to know _why_? You left us!" His left fist clenched white-knuckled on the tabletop. "Left us, with no warning, just to save your own ass! Kenshin could have _helped _you, but you just threw his friendship back in his face and _left_!"

Sano actually laughed. "You can't seriously be holding on to _that_ after seventeen years? That's just pathetic, Yahiko. You have no fucking idea what I've been through, of what I've seen. If anything, Kenshin and I are on far more equal terms now, and I believe the manner of my leaving is between him and _me_ to work out, thank you."

Yahiko lunged forward with a snarl and grabbed the front of Sano's gi, twisting the fabric sharply in his fist. "Equal terms with Kenshin? _You_? You arrogant _bastard_!"

Kenji had shrunk back against the wall of the booth, staring at the two men with wide eyes. He hadn't often been this close to such personal strife, and couldn't ever remember seeing a look like _that _on his older brother's face before. He could sense a real fight building, and for the first time he wondered if maybe Yahiko had picked a fight with the wrong guy; this Sagara could supposedly punch through stone, after all….Throwing caution to the wind he sat forward, placing both hands on the table. "Guys come on, that's enough, we're in a restaurant!"

"Stay out of this Kenji," Yahiko said sharply, not even looking at him. "This has nothing to do with you."

"If you weren't all red with sake," Kenji snapped back, "you'd remember yourself, Yahiko-_sensei_."

Yahiko blinked once, the use of his title startling him.

"You know what kid," Sano growled, throwing him a withering look. "You are damned nosy, just like your dad."

The teenager bristled. How _dare_ he! Kenji wasn't the one looking for a public brawl! "He isn't nosy!"

"All right, enough," Yahiko said somewhat weakly, looking slightly horrified at what he'd almost stepped into. Slowly he let go of Sano's gi and sat back down. He stared at his younger brother, startled at how insightful he could be at times. Yahiko had a face in the community to maintain; the survival of their school depended on it. _Shit…I have to be more careful. Damn Sanosuke._ "Let's…calm down."

Sano's lip curled in disgust. "I'd rather take this outside, _sensei_. Let's go."

A bright, cheery voice cut through the violent atmosphere more effectively than any sword. "Ah Sanosuke-san, I thought that was your voice I heard drowning out all my other customers. Welcome home."

Sano started, suddenly looking nervous. He turned from Yahiko and grinned up at the tall woman who had appeared beside the table. "Tae-san…long time no see." His eyes quickly skimmed over her close-fitting Western dress, which accentuated her trim frame and elegant, only slightly lined face. "You're just as pretty as the last time I saw you! Times have been good, huh?"

"Indeed," she said with a pleasant, yet somehow dangerous smile. Apparently Sano's attempt at flattery hadn't worked too well. She glanced at Yahiko and Kenji in turn. "So, did you two know he was coming or did he make his usual entrance?"

"The usual," Yahiko said quietly, his expression cold. "He hasn't changed much."

Sano glared at him. "Look who's talking."

Tae raised her eyebrows slightly, apparently taken aback by his aggressive tone. "Well, I can see you all have a lot to talk about. I'll just leave you with this." She calmly placed a piece of paper down in front of Sano.

He grimaced slightly as he looked down at it. "That's…not what I think it is, is it?"

Tae smiled sweetly. "Surely you didn't think I'd _forget_?"

Kenji leaned forward curiously. Sano slapped a hand over the paper, flushing red. "Err…no. I figured you wouldn't uh…forget."

Yahiko raised his eyebrows. "My Sano, that was a rather large number."

"Shut up!"

Tae blew air through her lips. "I take it then that you don't have any money to pay this? What a surprise."

"I have money! Really! It's just…in Chinese currency."

"Well then, until I see the Japanese version I'll just keep adding on that interest."

"Aww C'mon Tae-san, that was ages ago! Couldn't we start fresh? There's always a new— "

"What?" She replied icily. "A new tab? I suppose after a while you'll decide to hop on a boat again and conveniently vanish for another few decades."

"Err…well…"

"Of course that's what he'd do," Yahiko broke in, his voice, if possible, even colder. "Escaping his problems is his favorite past time."

Tae looked at both of them with some surprise, but said nothing. Apparently deciding her business was concluded for now, she gave a farewell nod to Kenji and went to look after her other customers.

A very awkward silence fell. Sano and Yahiko couldn't quite seem to meet each other's eyes.

"You know what," Kenji said suddenly into the suffocating quiet. "I think I'm done for the night. I'll leave you two to be drunk in peace." He slid over to the edge of the booth and stepped into his shoes.

Blinking slowly, Yahiko frowned at him. "Where are you going?" he asked suspiciously.

"Home," Kenji replied.

"Home!" Sano look indignant. Tae's arrival had obviously completely distracted him from the earlier argument. "Jus' like your dad, no fun at all!"

"True," Yahiko agreed vaguely, clearly having trouble keeping his focus now. Almost by reflex, he took another drink. "He never gets drunk."

"Nah he does, he just hides it real good!" Sano laughed fondly and poured himself more sake.

Kenji stared at them incredulously, shaking his head. _They really are drunk. _"Yeah…okay, whatever. I'll see you guys later."

"Go straight home," Yahiko said warningly. "No detours. Remember."

"Yeah, yeah," Kenji said dismissively. He nodded to Tae as he approached the door.

She smiled at him warmly. "Good night, Kenji-kun. Are the other two leaving as well?"

He rolled his eyes. "No. You'll probably have to kick them out before long."

"Oh no, not Sagara-san," she said pleasantly. "He has a significant debt to pay off."

"Seventeen years' worth?" he asked shrewdly, taking an educated guess.

She merely grinned in response, and after an exchange of farewell bows, he headed out into the night.

* * *

The night was silent except for the pleasant chirping of summer crickets. A warm breeze played through the buildings and across the clay roof tiles, bringing the smell of old wood, stone and grass to Kenji's nostrils as the Akabeko's door slid shut behind him. Stepping to one side he leaned briefly against the side of the building. He still burned with irritated anger inside. _Even after everything, Yahiko's last order is to 'go straight home'?_ _Unbelievable! _"All he wants is to save his own ass," the teenager grumbled resentfully. Hadn't it been Yahiko's idea to take him out in the first place, against his mother's orders? And now his brother wanted him back home safe and sound, no harm done. He stood there for several moments, seething and torn. His instinct was to obey his brother; no matter how much Yahiko irritated him sometimes, he still respected him, and the last thing he wanted was to disappoint him. At the same time though, the very thought of taking orders from those drunken idiots made him want to kick something. _Fine_, he thought savagely. _I'll go home, but I'm taking the scenic route. _Pushing himself firmly away from the wall, he walked not toward the street which was the shortest route back to the dojo, but to a smaller street off the side. 

The scrape of his sandals on the packed dirt of the street seemed unnaturally loud in the summer night, which was oddly subdued and quiet. Here and there a firefly flared to life beneath the eve of a roof, only to vanish again within seconds. A perfect evening. Or at least, it should have been.

The teenager took as much time as possible wending his way home, stopping frequently at every bridge and corner just to linger and stare into the night. Thoughts swirled chaotically in his head, most of them centering on the one part of the evening's conversation that had really riled him. Though he had only known the man for a day and didn't entirely trust him yet, Sagara had at least shown him some level of respect. He actually seemed mindful of Kenij's age, and didn't think it all ridiculous that he should be interested in women, or that they might be interested in return. Kenji was, in fact, quite popular among their handful of female students and he'd had no shortage of girls at school tailing him wherever he went. The memory of one specific girl brought a triumphant smirk to his face, and he made a mental note to arrange an evening's private walk with Keiko the moment this cursed house arrest was lifted.

His smile faded. Yahiko, on the other hand, seemed determined to treat him like a child still. How could he have mocked him in front of Sagara like that? How could he sit there and say Kenji was "too young" when he himself had proposed to Tsubame the day after receiving the Sakabatou at age fifteen! They'd gotten married less than a year later. The hypocrisy of it infuriated him, and he kicked a large stone ahead of him with unnecessary force, wincing at the pain which shot up his toe.

Cursing under his breath, Kenji stopped and leaned up against the side of the building, holding his foot up off the ground. While he waited for the throbbing pain to stop, he ran a hand over his face, his thoughts drifting back to Sagara. There was something about the man that made him vaguely uneasy. The timing just seemed too…strange, somehow. His father's old friend just shows up out of nowhere, then vanishes for hours only to turn up looking like he'd just been in a fight? Yahiko had said Sagara was a well-known street brawler, but still…

That nagging, uncomfortable feeling was coming back and he glanced uncertainly over his shoulder. As far as he could tell he was alone in the dark street. Swallowing hard, he put his foot back down and started to push himself away from the wall.

"Hitokiri Battousai."

Kenji froze, eyes growing wide. He felt the cold press of metal against his arm. He recognized the voice, and the arrow wound in his side ached with sudden memory.

"You will come with us."

Kenji turned slowly, his back still to the building, as six men emerged from the shadows. They were all leering at him, as if enjoying some private joke. The largest man, the one who'd tagged him with the sword, stepped forward into the dim moonlight. Kenji recognized him at once as the leader of the men who'd attacked him before and noted with dread that, just like before, he carried a real katana, not a cheap cane sword. Suddenly the bokken slung across his back felt very inadequate. If this man was armed, the others would be too. Kenji took a breath and decided to break the silence first. "How did you find me?"

The leader regarded the boy with disdainful eyes. "That's hardly relevant, hitokiri." His words were followed by an ominous rustle and_ chink_ of several weapons being readied. Kenji did his best to hide his growing panic. They had followed him here from Kyoto, it was the only explanation. But he'd been back nearly a month, why had they waited until now to show themselves?

_Sagara_, he realized darkly. _The timing's too close. There could be a connection…oh, Yahiko! What if…_

Shoving these thoughts away, he focused on the man before him, who was easily head and shoulders taller than him. "I told you before, I am _not_ hitokiri Battousai. That should be obvious just looking at me. Why have you tracked me here?"

"Denial won't work," said one of the other men. Kenji recognized him as the same man who'd gotten a good slice across his back last time. His swordwork in that attack had been astonishingly fast, and Kenji eyed the man's half-drawn katana warily.

Tearing his gaze away he scanned the rest of the men, looking for the archer who'd nearly killed him before. To his dismay he spotted him lurking at the very back of the group, longbow knocked and ready. _Damn it._ _I'll have to run again._ Inside he burned with shame, especially after everything he'd said to both Misao and Sagara about not being weak. However, he knew his own limits. Facing down Akira or even Yahiko one-on-one was fine, but multi-opponent melees were not something he'd been trained for. Not only that, these men had been sent for Battousai. They wouldn't be ordinary swordsmen.

Kenji looked around for an avenue of escape. There was none; he was surrounded on all sides. "Look," he tried to reason with them, fighting to keep the desperation out of his voice. "Could we please talk about this? If I were really a hitokiri, don't you think our fight last time would have gone a little differently?"

"It's well-known that Battousai no longer kills. It doesn't surprise me that a coward like that would turn and run," the leader drawled matter-of-factly. He almost sounded amused. He signaled to his men, and two of them started to approach, sliding their swords from their sheaths.

Kenji glared back at them, baring his teeth, anger overcoming his fear. _You dare call __**my **__father a coward? You, who would attack one on six? Well I won't give you the satisfaction._ Kenji tensed, ready to run. But run to where, exactly? The men were drawing closer, and a strange blank buzzing filled his ears, broken only by the deafening pounding of his heart. There was still space on either side, if he moved now…

_Now!_ Kenji dropped low and shot sideways, not sure what he was doing or why. He collided roughly with an arm and felt a razor-sharp blade scrape against him. The searing pain of it cleared his brain for a moment, bringing the world back into focus. He was running, but he wasn't clear of the swordsmen, who he could hear charging after him, barking instructions at each other.

He was running flat-out toward another building across the street, and as he looked up he saw the sloped roof, with its many overlapping tiles. Suddenly his path seemed blindingly clear.

Gathering himself, he remembered the energy he'd needed to leap above Akira's head for the Ryu Tsui Sen. He'd have to jump even higher than that to reach the roof. He wasn't at all sure he could do it. _Father,_ he prayed silently. Just feet from the roof, with every bit of power and agility he could muster, Kenji jumped. It was barely enough; he caught the large circular tiles edging the roof painfully with his knees. His hands flew out to grab the edges of the tiles above him and with a grunt, he pulled himself up and over the edge.

There was the unmistakable sound of a bowstring being drawn back and released below him, and he actually _felt_ the arrow shoot past his ear, the steel tip grazing his skin as it passed. It embedded itself in the tile in front of his face, shattering it with violent force and sending clay shards flying outward. With a panicked yelp, Kenji launched himself up and over the spine of the roof, spurred on by adrenaline. Sliding down the other side on his rear, he let himself fly off the end of the roof. Landing hard, he took off into the winding alleys as fast his he could, his attackers' shouts of rage in his ears.

* * *

For a brief moment after their shouts had died away, the group of hired hitmen paused. 

"Fuck," one of the men snarled in furious surprise. "Did that kid just DO that?"

"Boss," one of the others said uncertainly. "Are you sure this is such a good idea? What if that kid—"

"Shut up," the leader snarled.

"But if he's really Battousai's—"

"I said SHUT UP!" His sword whipped out of its sheath, the tip hovering dangerously close to the man's right eye. "We stick to the plan. We do this right, we won't have to deal with the hitokiri _at all_. Got it? Now, split up and find that brat before he can get help. Kentaro and Daisuke are with me. You four!" He pointed at the remaining three swordsmen and the archer, who was watching the exchange with shadowed, hungry eyes. "Search for him together. Remember, capture, _not_ kill. Go!"

The two groups headed in opposite directions, melting silently back into the shadows.

* * *

Kenji ran almost blindly along the narrow Tokyo streets for several minutes, his mind in overdrive. He'd done it. He'd gotten to the roof, he'd gotten away, he'd _done_ it. It was all he could do to keep from grinning stupidly at his success. Misao nodded approvingly in his mind's eye, and he almost jumped again just to prove he could. Confidence restored, he did just that, jumping again to another roof and covering as much distance as he could, though that was made difficult by roof tiles constantly shattering or giving way beneath his feet. 

_Surely Father used the roofs like this back in Kyoto. How did he do that without leaving a trail behind him? _Kenji thought he might have to nerve to actually ask the former hitokiri this the next time he saw him; providing of course he survived the night.

On that sobering thought Kenji let himself drop to the ground again. He came to a staggering stop against the high garden wall of a private home, his lungs burning and legs shaking with exhaustion. With a tremendous effort his brought his brain back into focus. _Okay, a plan. I need a plan. Where do I go?_

Several possibilities came to mind, but he dismissed them all quickly. He couldn't go home, that was certain. It was still possible the thugs didn't know exactly where he lived, and he intended for it to stay that way. The next logical choice was the Akabeko, where Sano and Yahiko probably still were. That was out of the question though; if Sagara was indeed involved with the thugs, then Yahiko could well be involved in a fight of his own right now.

_The police_, his mind suggested. "No," he murmured aloud. Kenji didn't want his father to know about any of this, especially not his current severe breaking of the house arrest rule. If the police were involved, that would be it; his parents knew all the cops and were good friends with several. Kenji had never wondered why this was when he was younger. Now he knew this was probably done out of necessity; insurance for his family's safety.

_I told Misao I could handle this._ _I'm not a kid anymore._ Kenji listened hard for any signs of pursuit, but it seemed he had lost the thugs for the moment. What he really needed now was a place to hide, somewhere he could rest and think of what to do.

Kenji broke away from the wall and darted swiftly through a few more streets. At the end of one he found himself facing an ordinary, though familiar, house. He checked the name on the sign outside the gate just to make sure; he didn't usually come here at night. The gate itself would be locked, and he had no intention of waking the sleeping family inside. _Okay, legs, one more wall jump. Can you do that? _His whole body was trembling now and he felt a twinge of nervous doubt. This was quite possibly going to be very painful. Backing away from the high wall surrounding the garden, he crouched and readied himself. With a strangled shout he leapt up and hit the wall messily; his legs didn't quite have enough strength left in them, and he caught the top of the wall hard with his stomach. Grunting in pain, he tumbled ungracefully over the wall and landed flat on his back in the packed dirt of the house's inner yard, the impact knocking the breath from his lungs.

_Oh now that was __**embarrassing**_ Thanking every god there was that Misao wasn't there to watch, Kenji lay still for several minutes, forcing air back into his shocked lungs. He flexed his limbs carefully before getting painfully to his feet. Amazed that he hadn't broken anything, he crept stealthily across the lawn, moving in complete silence. _See Misao-san? You did teach me well; no one knows I'm here._ Grinning slightly, Kenji slipped off his shoes and tucked him into his shirt before stepping up onto the high porch that ran around the outside of the house. He padded swiftly around to the side and slid open a particular set of _shoji_ doors. He slipped inside.

He blinked several times in the darkness of the interior. A teenaged boy lay sprawled on a futon in the middle of the room, snoring softly. He didn't even stir as Kenji slid the door shut and knelt down next to him. He smiled slightly at the boy's messy bed hair and crumpled sheets, which were balled into a shapeless mass around him. "Taro."

There was no response. Kenji said his name again and Taro's eyes flickered briefly. "Taro, wake up." Kenji prodded him lightly in the shoulder.

The boy's dark eyes flew open and he stared up at Kenji. It took a moment for his sleepy brain to register what he was seeing. Once it did he gave a strangled shout and tried to get up, but tripped in his blankets, falling back on his rear. Kenji darted forward and clapped a hand across the boy's mouth. "Taro, it's me, it's Kenji! Calm down."

The other boy blinked once and relaxed slightly, though he was now scowling. He yanked Kenji's hand away from his mouth. "What are you doing here?!"

"Sorry," Kenji whispered, "but I needed a place to hide."

"Hide?" Taro asked incredulously. "Are you nuts? Go home!"

Kenji shook his head sharply. He'd known his friend wouldn't be happy about being woken up in the middle of the night, but this was an emergency. He had to make him understand. "I can't go home right now. Look, I can explain just…can we go somewhere more hidden? Like your storage shed? I'd just go in there myself, but it's locked."

Taro stared him in disbelief for a long moment. "You're out of your mind."

"_Please_," Kenji hissed urgently. "I swear this isn't a joke. I need your help."

After another moment of tense silence the other boy muttered, "You're lucky we're friends, Kenji," and reached for his clothes.

"I owe you one," Kenji whispered gratefully.

Taro glared at him. He threw a dark yukata over his sleeping robe and wrapped it around him. "Damned right you do. Wait here, I'll get the keys."

Five minutes later Taro shut the doors of the shed behind them. He was moving very unsteadily, obviously very sleepy still, and Kenji felt a pang of guilt. This was really very rude of him.

"All right," Taro growled, sinking down to sit on the floor next to his friend. "What's going on? I thought you weren't allowed to leave your house until your parents got back."

"Erm…" Kenji rubbed the back of his head. Now that it was time to explain everything, he was having trouble finding a place to start. "Well, I _was_ supposed to go straight home tonight but…okay. This is going to sound really weird, but I swear it's true. There's a group of swordsmen after me and I didn't want to lead them home, so I lost them in the streets. I ended up here and thought this would be a good place to hide for a bit."

Taro stared at his friend in disbelief before burying his face in his hands. "I don't believe this. The fact that you find these sorts of pranks funny really pisses me off, Kenji."

"This isn't is a prank!" He said sharply, hurt. "Taro I wouldn't be waking you up in the middle of the night for a joke."

"Uh-huh."

"I mean it!"

Taro glared at him. "Why in the world would there be swordsmen after you? What, did you rob some rich guy on your epic quest to Kyoto?"

Kenji actually snarled at him. The other boy drew back, startled. "You know I wouldn't do that! Damn it, Taro! I'm getting really tired of everyone questioning my character every five minutes."

"Okay, sorry!" Taro whispered, waving his hands. "I—" his voice died as he looked closer at his friend. Now that his eyes had adjusted to the moonlight filtering through the shed's high windows, Taro could see that Kenji looked pale and exhausted, his face glistening with sweat. He let his eyes travel over the other boy's torn and filthy clothes, and saw with dawning horror a dark stain blossoming on left side of his gi. "Kenji…you're bleeding."

"What?" Kenji looked down, and for the first time remembered the thug's sword catching on him as he'd run past. Sucking in a breath of surprise, he slipped his gi off his shoulder and stared incredulously at the deep cut along his ribs. "I didn't even feel it," he murmured, half to himself. "I guess I was too busy to notice." He looked up and froze at the alarmed expression on Taro's face. "Taro?"

"Did a sword do that?" Taro whispered faintly, looking ill. "Kenji, what's going on?"

Kenji pressed a hand to the cut and breathed a small sigh of relief. The wound was shallow; he'd be okay. The arrow had been much worse. "Just what I said. It wasn't easy to get away from them."

Taro sat forward, half fearful, half awe-struck. "What do they want with you?"

Kenji closed his eyes, suddenly feeling weak and lightheaded. "Taro…if I tell you something, I need you to keep it to yourself. Seriously."

The boy frowned. "All right. Why?"

"Just…look." Kenji swallowed. "There's something my parents made me promise I'd never tell anyone who didn't have a need to know and well…I guess now you need to know."

Taro drummed his fingers on the dusty floor impatiently. "Well?"

"The swordsmen are after my father, not me. They think I'm him, because we look so much alike."

Taro just stared, blinking slowly. That was it? The big secret? "Your…father? But why? Himura-san's harmless!"

Kenji almost laughed. "No, he isn't actually. He's…Taro, you know he used to be a swordsman."

"Yeah, so? _Everyone's_ father 'used to be a swordsman'." Taro frowned, giving Kenji a dubious look. Growing up, he'd gone over to Kenji's dojo a few times a week at least, so he felt he had a pretty good impression of Himura: gentle, quiet, shy in a way that Kenji clearly wasn't. While the students at the dojo had talked in general terms about Himura being a swordsman, Taro had never even seen the man near a weapon. "Well he couldn't have been that good of a swordsman then if he gave it up, that's what I always figured. I mean all he does is clean and do laundry..." his voice faded at the look on Kenji's face. His friend looked deeply offended. "What? He does! Why on earth would these guys want him?"

"Taro," Kenji said, with the air of explaining a simple math problem, "he has red hair and crossed scars, and he tries really hard to keep a low profile. Haven't you ever thought about that?"

The boy frowned. "No, not really. Why don't you just tell me instead of making me guess?"

"_Fine_." Kenji hesitated again, and Taro wondered what on earth the big deal was. "He used to be hitokiri Battousai, okay? That's why they want him."

There was a ringing silence in the cramped shed. "Okay, now you really are joking."

"Believe me, I wish I was." Kenji was looking at him very intently.

Taro sat back, giving Kenji a hard, disbelieving look. "Battousai. Himura-san."

"Yes."

"No way."

"Why not?"

Taro blinked. "Why not? Because! Battousai was a killer, a master swordsman, there's no way he'd do…girly stuff like _laundry_!"

"How would you know?" Kenji asked quietly. "Maybe Battousai just wanted to live a peaceful life like everyone else. Maybe he _likes_ laundry and cleaning and ordinary things."

"Kenji, he makes rice balls with _bunny_ ears on them! Come on!"

"They make my mother laugh, and when she's happy he's happy. That's all."

Taro stared at him, his eyes widening at the deadly serious expression on Kenji's face. His eyes slowly traveled up to the dark red-brown hair tied high on his friend's head in a messy topknot. Still, his mind denied it. "You're crazy, that cut on your chest has addled your mind or something. There is _no way_ Himura-san could be Battousai. He's tiny! And…and really nice and…he'd never kill anyone! It's impossible."

"Taro, you're starting to babble." Kenji leaned forward until they were almost nose to nose. "I don't have time for you to be stubborn about this, okay? I am _not_ making this up. When have you ever known me to lie about something this important?"

Taro's voice was faint. "You…wouldn't I guess. Not about this." He seemed to sag slightly with shock. "You're completely serious."

Kenji sighed wearily and rubbed his forehead. "That's what I've been saying all along."

"But…I mean how could they think you're him? You don't even know his sword style. He never taught it to you."

"I know," Kenji spat bitterly, glaring into the shadows. "That's why I went to Kyoto in the first place, remember?" He stood and started wandering around the shed, thinking aloud. "I first met these guys on the way there, but I got away from them and until now I thought they were gone. I don't understand what their problem is; if I was really Battousai I would have defeated them the first time."

Taro shifted uncomfortably. "Maybe they're just pretending to be confused, so you'll lead them to him?"

"Maybe."

Silence fell, and Taro picked idly at a splinter in the wood. "You should go to the police."

"Yeah, I probably should. I'd really rather fight them and win, though."

Taro sat up. "That's not funny, Kenji. You're a pretty good fighter from what I've seen, but you couldn't beat them before right?"

"No, but things are different now." He unslung his bokken and held it in his hands, squeezing the solid wood. "I think I can take the swordsmen. It's their archer I need to worry about."

Taro raised an eyebrow. "You do remember that you're bleeding, right?" Kenji didn't reply. He bit his lip, now looking a little panicked. "Myojin-sensei knows about this, right? You told him about these guys."

"No," Kenji admitted quietly. "You're the first one I've told, actually."

"Great," he said sarcastically. "Your one friend who doesn't have an ounce of swordfighting talent. I'm sure I'll be so helpful to you."

"That's not why I told you!" Kenji said sharply. "I—" He froze mid-word, eyes wide. His head snapped around to stare through the far wall. "Oh no."

"What?" Taro asked, dropping his voice to a whisper.

"Where are your parents?" Kenji asked softly. He didn't put his bokken away.

Taro stood. "My mother's visiting an aunt in Yokohama. My father and sister are asleep."

Kenji closed his eyes briefly. _I'm so sorry, Taro. _"I think they're here." He stepped to the door and slid it open a crack.

"Hiding in a shed, Battousai? Pathetic." The door was yanked open from the other side and Kenji barely had time to parry the katana that was thrust through the opening. He heard Taro yell out behind him, but he didn't have time to worry about that. With a yell of his own he kicked out at the man in the door and felt his foot connect with a broad chest. The swordsman fell back and Kenji knocked his weapon aside, jumping down to the ground. Four of the other five swordsmen were gathered in the yard; the fifth was standing on the porch, poised by one of the sliding doors, waiting. The archer was nowhere to be seen.

Kenji felt Taro close behind him, and could hear his fast, scared breathing. Taro's family were rice merchants, they knew nothing about swords or battles. Kenji cursed his own selfish stupidity and thought frantically of what to do. Nothing immediately came to mind. The man he'd kicked got to his feet with a muttered growl, and Kenji heard the soft _clink_ of him hoisting his sword. _Surrounded and outnumbered. Wonderful._

The leader came forward, his face set in an irritated scowl. "I'm growing tired of this chase. There's nowhere you can run where we won't find you. Now come with us, or my man will go into that house right now and kill everyone in it."

Kenji felt the blood drain from his face. "Why?" he said, horrified. "They weren't helping me! They don't even know I'm here!"

The man grinned in cruel amusement. "You shouldn't have come here and endangered your friends. Awfully foolish for a swordsman as experienced as you."

There was no doubt in Kenji's mind now. "You know I'm telling you the truth," he said with growing anger. "I'm not Battousai!"

The man laughed, the men around him echoing him. "That's obvious, brat. We know Battousai isn't easy to draw out; unlike us, he doesn't fight just because he feels like it. We targeted you because you were the perfect bait, and we told our idiot of a boss you were Battousai. He saw you himself the other day, but still didn't doubt us at all. Your resemblance to our target has been very…convenient. Now come with us. I won't ask again."

Kenji stared at him, appalled. He glanced over his shoulder at Taro, who had gone white with fear. "Wait," he said. "You mean you're going to take me to this boss of yours and say I'm Battousai? Won't he figure it out?"

"As long as I'm paid for my trouble, I could care less what he believes," the thug said matter-of-factly.

"I'm not doing this," Kenji said defiantly. "I won't be killed just so you can make money!" He aimed his bokken at each man in turn. "I'll fight all of you."

The leader sighed. "I can't believe I have to deal with a _child_ like this. Kentaro."

The man behind them moved, and Kenji twisted around in time to see him lock a huge hand around Taro's throat and drag him forward to face Kenji. He held the sharp edge of the katana against the boy's neck, a hard glint in his small eyes. "Do as our boss says, kid. Your friend shouldn't have to die so young."

Kenji felt as if a cold fist were clamped around his insides and he could only stare helplessly into Taro's terrified eyes. His lips were starting to turn blue with the pressure the thug was putting on his throat.

"This isn't a game, boy," The leader growled. "Stupid heroics aren't going to save the day, and your father isn't here to save you."

Kenji's eyes widened at this. The man simply leered. "You don't have the skill or the experience to take us on. Do it," he instructed.

"No!" Kenji screamed, but instead of slitting Taro's throat Kentaro lifted the butt of his sword and slammed it against the side of the boy's head. Taro immediately fell to the ground, knocked out. Kentaro shoved the limp body so the boy lay on his back, throat exposed. He rested the tip of his sword almost casually across it. "One little slip on my part is all it will take if you resist again."

"Take him," the leader said in a bored voice. The other men surged forward and Kenji knew it was over. He snarled defiantly at them, but didn't resist when his bokken was taken out of his hands. A large meaty arm slipped around his neck and held him from behind. The leader stepped forward and raised his sword, leveling it at Kenji's neck. "Good boy."

A fist flew at his head, and Kenji knew no more.

_To be continued…_

So yeah, I make you guys wait another eight months only to have our hero kidnapped. Poor Kenji. Next time: It's time for Kenji to find out what he's really made of, and Sano and Yahiko need to get over themselves. Or at least, Yahiko does. Stay tuned!


	7. Measures

Clearing Skies

by Calger459

Chapter 7: Measures

A belated Merry Christmas and happy New Year everyone! I want to sincerely thank all the loyal readers who've stuck with me through the painfully slow updates, and everyone who's graced this story with a favorite or story alert. I know you're out there and that you're reading, and that makes it all worthwhile. Believe or not, we're nearing the end of this tale. On with the fic!

* * *

Silence fell over the courtyard and the leader of the group of hitmen sighed irritably and cracked his neck, glaring down at the two unconscious teenagers at his feet. _Well it's about damn time we got this kid. _Fujiwara Ryozo watched as two of his men immediately went to work, tying up the limbs of the two boys and wrapping their bodies carefully in clothThey would have to carry both children, but it was late enough at night Ryozo wasn't too concerned about discovery. Having two hostages though, that was something he hadn't counted on. The plan would have to be altered a bit, but he could live with that. He had known this particular job would be difficult the moment he'd accepted it. Hayakawa had hired them to bring him Battousai, and that is what he would get; or the next best thing anyway. Ryozo wasn't so foolish as to take on the legendary hitokiri himself, not when this particular client conveniently happened to be half-blind. No, the assassin's son would do just as well, provided nothing else went wrong this evening. 

"Fujiwara-san," said his second Kentaro, coming to stand beside him. "What are we going to do with the other boy? We can't let Hayakawa-sama see him."

Ryozo sighed. "We'll take them both to the house for now. Obviously we'll just keep the other kid under wraps until the job's over with."

"Or we could just _kill_ him," one of his other men muttered sullenly from his spot on the porch. Daisuke so far had been the most vocal about his impatience to have this snatch and grab over with, and though it annoyed him Ryozo understood the man's frustration. Netting Battousai's son without the hitokiri suspecting anything had required careful planning and a fair amount of feinting on their part, which had dragged them across the country and back over the past few months. Losing on purpose and holding back from a kill were never fun activities for professional bounty hunters, and his men were among the best. However, they'd all agreed before taking this particular job that the hitokiri Battousai, even an aged one, was not a creature they wished to tackle directly. The man was far too dangerous, and Ryozo had almost refused the job on that fact alone. The money however was excellent, and when his research had turned up Himura Kenji, whose resemblance to his father bordered on the supernatural, there were no more questions from any of them about accepting.

That didn't make this venture any less risky though, and Ryozo had not lasted in the business this long without preparing good contingency plans. There was always the chance of a job going south, and one or more of his people being arrested. In that instance Ryozo would rather have his men be eventually released, and that was made all the harder if excessive murder charges were involved. No, Himura Kenji's friend would be spared, for the moment anyway.

Ryozo glared at his subordinate. "Don't be foolish Daisuke, the last thing we need at this point is a body to dispose of. Besides, he's worth more to us alive, for ransom if nothing else. "

His gaze traveled up to where his archer had emerged from the interior of the house and was leaning back against the wall, watching the proceedings with a bored expression. "Oonishi-san?"

The archer lazily lifted one arm and flashed a rumpled ball of cloth. "Chloroform. The two inside won't wake for some time yet."

"Good." He looked over to where his other men were standing with the two boys slung over their respective shoulders. "All right, someone help them get cloaks on over the brats and let's move out. We have a fee to collect."

* * *

_/Kyoto. Two months ago./ _

His father was sleeping.

Kenji had finally left the bath house a good half hour after Misao's exit, still wrapped in his borrowed white yukata, which was now quite damp and starting to become uncomfortable. He'd made his way back to the room he'd always shared with his parents on their previous visits, his thoughts racing. Misao was on his side, she would keep her silence, that he knew, and his sense of relief was overwhelming. However, behind that relief lurked fear, directed at one person in particular. Wherever his mother was at the moment, he didn't want to face her until he was at least properly dry and dressed.

Looking back on it later, it was amazing to him how the next sight to greet him on entering the room drove all that apprehension from his mind.

Mouth falling open in amazement, Kenji slid the doors shut behind him and padded over to his parents' shared futon. He stopped a few feet away and crouched down, staring wonderingly at the figure lying there. He knew his father slept of course, he was only human, but for as long as Kenji could remember the man, he was always the last to bed and the first one awake, so the times he'd seen him like _this_, so still and at peace, he could literally count on one hand.

_He looks so young_, Kenji thought in amazement. Young…yet also exhausted. He could see the shadows under his father's eyes and the way he lay curled almost defensively on his side, still fully clothed. Kenji frowned slightly; his father's clothes were covered in road dust still, and he was getting it all over the futon. His mother would pitch a fit. His father must have really been out of it to go to sleep like that. Kenji shifted slightly on his feet, aware that he was the main cause of his father's distress, but still not entirely sure how to feel about it.

Certainly, he'd had an eventful twenty-four hours. It suddenly hit him that he'd arrived at Hiko's cabin just yesterday afternoon. Now here he was, training denied and firmly back in his parents' control, which was certain to be much tighter from now on. He felt his spirits plummet and sank down even further in his crouch, head hanging between his knees. Nothing had gone the way he'd imagined since leaving Tokyo. The entire journey had been a tremendous waste of time and effort, and as his both his father and Misao has pointed out mercilessly, his standing with his mother was in serious jeopardy. As Yahiko would have put it, Kenji had seriously screwed himself over, and there was nowhere he could go now to escape the fate that awaited him. _You reap what you sow. Isn't that what people always say? _Sighing deeply, Kenji looked up past his father's face and into the rich orange afternoon light illuminating the paper doors leading to the outside.

Light which was suddenly blocked by the slim outline of a figure, but before Kenji could react his mother had slid the door open. Startled, Kenji stared at her, eyes widening in alarm.

Mother and son regarded each other. Kenji felt slightly dizzy as he quickly stood straight up, his throat suddenly constricted with terror. His mother's expression was unreadable as she stared at him. He noted that she was dressed in full Kamiya Kasshin training gear, her sturdy old bokken – originally his grandfather's – tucked in the ties of her hakama. She glanced down at Kenshin, then back up at Kenji, and a brief look of puzzlement flickered across her face. The next instant it was gone though, and giving him a hard look she jerked her head in the general direction of the back garden, and slid the door shut.

Her meaning could not have been clearer.

Kenji nearly ran to the futon that had been laid out for him at the far end of the room, and saw that his own set of training clothes sat neatly folded on top of it, along with his bokken. Not allowing himself to think of what exactly his mother had in store for him, he dressed at record speed and yanked his hair painfully into a damp topknot. Wincing, he shoved the bokken through his hakama ties and stepped carefully past his father, who hadn't so much as stirred. Kenji sent him a worried glance; his father was always hyper-aware of his surroundings, and for him to sleep this soundly was a sign of how much this whole affair had drained him. Swallowing hard, Kenji followed his mother.

She was standing on one of the wide flagstones in the Aoiya's private garden, her back to the house, her long blue-black hair lit in brilliant contrasts by the slanting light of the setting sun. Kenji hesitated on the porch, heart pounding. He was in serious trouble; he knew by her straight-shouldered stance, and how still she was. His mother was always a beacon of energy, flitting about cheerfully in a way that had always reminded him of butterflies and birds. At this moment however, she could have easily been mistaken for a statue, or a hawk waiting patiently for the right moment to strike. "Mother?" She didn't reply.

Taking a deep, cautious breath, Kenji stepped down to the ground, mindful that he had no shoes on. Weeks of walking though had toughened his feet, and he barely felt the sharpness of the rocks as he approached her. Stopping a few feet away, he stared at her back, waiting. He unconsciously tensed; they were both armed and dressed to fight. Was that what she intended?

Finally, his mother turned to face him, her expression the coldest he had ever seen. It was so unlike her, and his heart clenched in fear again. She held out her right hand. "Give me your bokken."

He blinked in surprise. "Why?"

Her expression hardened further. "When your _sensei_ asks you to do something, you do it. Give me the bokken."

He did so, handing it to her hilt-first. She held the weapon in her hands for a moment, staring at it, her grip tightening slightly around the smooth white wood. She looked up at him. "What does this weapon signify to you, Kenji?"

Taken aback by the question, he stared blankly back at her. "Uh…protection? The ability to fight?"

She glared at him and inwardly he cringed. "Try again. What is the purpose of Kamiya Kasshin Ryu? Why do we practice it?"

_Oh._ "To protect the weak," he answered automatically.

She raised an eyebrow. "Protect them _how_?"

"Without…killing," he said slowly, wondering where on earth this was going. Something was very wrong here. His mother was far, far too calm. Not even when she had trained him in the past had her manner been this formal.

"So what, then, is the purpose of Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu?"

His father's words from the night before suddenly echoed in his head, and it took considerable effort to repeat them now. "To…Father said it was to kill as many possible at once."

Her expression was heavy as she slowly and deliberately tucked his bokken next to her own, gently gripping the hilts of both weapons with her left hand. "Am I to understand then, that you have forsaken one for the other?"

Kenji frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, is that what you've decided you want to do with your swordsmanship? You intend to kill with it?"

"No!" he protested at once, taking a small step toward her. "Of course not, Mother! Why would I do that?"

"So you mean to defend the weak with it then?"

He hesitated just a fraction. "If I'm strong, I can protect people just as well."

She walked forward, until they were only an arm's length apart. "So, you want swordsmanship only for yourself." Her voice was low, her eyes dark.

Kenji shifted uncomfortably. It sounded rather selfish when put that way. "Isn't that the idea?" he asked quietly. "If I'm weak or I don't know how to fight, how can I possibly help anyone?"

"What I'm trying to understand," his mother replied, "is how you thought withdrawing from Kamiya Kasshin would help you in that effort."

It took a moment for her words to process, and he gave her a genuinely confused look. "What? I didn't withdraw!"

Her eyes flashed with sudden annoyance. "Do you truly not understand what it is you've done?" she asked, her tone incredulous. "When you confronted your father and I, you effectively announced your intention to withdraw from Kamiya Kasshin Ryu. Your leaving made that withdrawal official."

He stared at her, eyes wide.

"So you are now without a sword style at all."

His blank expression turned to one of outrage. "That's not true! Of course I have one!"

"No, you don't. Your father tested you last night and you failed. You have not been accepted as a student of Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu. Therefore you are not a student of anyone, and do not belong to a school. You have lost your standing in Kamiya Kasshin."

Kenji stared at her, unable to believe what he was hearing. "Lost my standing?"

"Yes Kenji, you _lost it_!" she barked back, her temper suddenly flaring to the surface. "Why are you standing there acting like you don't understand what I'm saying? You've been training students for two years as an assistant master to Yahiko. Do you honestly expect me to believe you didn't know what you were doing?"

His insides felt frozen. "You're…kicking me out of the school?" Panic clawed at his mind, making it difficult to think. He balked at himself for not realizing, for not even _considering_ this as a possibility. He'd been expecting reprimand and punishment from his mother, yes, but dismissal from the school? He had meant to _append_ his current skills with Hiten Mitsurugi, not abandon his mother's style entirely!

Yet he knew she was right; he'd learned these policies of the school himself when he'd started teaching classes at the dojo. He'd just never expected them to apply to _him_.

His mother's left hand clenched around the two bokken. "You removed_ yourself_, Kenji. How else am I supposed to interpret what you've done?"

He looked into her blue eyes, which were now bright with anger and something else, something startlingly similar to what he'd seen in his father's eyes the night before. Frustration, despair,_disappointment_. It was that last especially that stung. Anger or yelling he could deal with, but not disappointment. Not the knowledge that he had failed in both his parents' eyes now.

He knew his next words would sound completely absurd, but he didn't know how else to respond. "Can't I just…un-remove myself?"

For a moment his mother looked livid…then her expression seemed to crumble and she looked profoundly sad. "No Kenji, you can't. Even if you say you've changed your mind and you want to come back to the school, how am I supposed to trust that you really mean it? As master of Kamiya Kasshin Ryu, I cannot in good conscience restore your rank and pretend this never happened."

He looked up slowly. "I'll show you I mean it then. Give my bokken back."

She stared at him for a minute, then moved forward. He frowned, and was about to ask what she was doing when, with a swift draw of her bokken, she poked him sharply in the hip with it, right on the arrow wound.

He gasped in pained shock and stumbled backward, his back hitting the edge of the raised porch. His mother glared at him, all trace of melancholy gone from her face. "What do you take me for? I'm not going to fight you injured. Besides which, you've lost all right to private instruction from me, and that includes foolish challenges."

Kenji gritted his teeth and pushed away from the porch. He pressed a hand to the now-throbbing injury. "Father told you, then?"

"No, I could tell from the way you walked out here."

Mother and son glared at each other for a moment. "That's my bokken," Kenji said finally.

She gave him an appraising look. "Is it? Why would you want it, if your heart is set on a sword style that has no need of it?"

He looked away, fist clenching in the fabric of his gi. "What else do I have?" he asked sullenly.

His mother shook her head and walked up to him again. She laid a gentle hand on his face and turned his gaze toward her. "You need to understand," she said quietly, "that you have in no way stopped being our son. You have far more than just a bokken." She stepped back. "When you've earned your standing in the school back, I will return the bokken to you."

Kenji gave her somewhat surprised look. "Earn it back how?"

"Until we return, you will continue aiding Yahiko with his classes, and you will be responsible for the dojo's upkeep as well. Yahiko will judge your performance and decide if you are sincere on continuing your study with Kamiya Kasshin." Her tone was all business now.

Kenji processed this. "What do you mean 'until you return'?"

"We are taking you back to Tokyo and then returning to Kyoto. While you are home you are to remain at the dojo at all times under Yahiko's supervision. I'll send a letter ahead and let him know."

Kenji gaped at her. "You're putting me under _house arrest_, then just turning around and coming back here? Why?"

"Hiko-san needs care and he won't take it from the Oniwabanshuu, nor can he be moved down to the Aoiya easily. I'm going to help your father with trips up to the mountain to care for him."

"I could do that!" he said, hating the desperation he heard in his own voice. "I can help Father –"

"NO," she nearly thundered. "You will go and help your brother, he needs you more. Yahiko can't run the dojo at full capacity by himself. He's had to cancel over half the classes while we've been here looking for you. Obviously that can't continue. That is the _only_ reason you are being allowed to resume your duties there. It is by my extreme generosity as a master that I'm also giving you the chance to redeem yourself while you're at it. I don't want to hear another word of protest from you. Have I been clear?"

Kenji glared at the ground, thoroughly defeated. "Yes, Mother."

* * *

_/Tokyo. Present. /_

"So. The kid's been banned by Kaoru. Interesting." Sano looked out over the small river which ran near the dojo.

It was well past three in the morning. They had finally been kicked out of the Akabeko and ordered to go home by a very irritated-looking Tae. "Some of us have businesses to run and spouses to return to,_ sensei_!" she'd snarled, jabbing a nagging finger into Yahiko's chest.

"No worries, no classes tomorrow!" he'd replied jovially, his earlier ire at Sano seemingly forgotten, or at least firmly smothered with sake. "Tsubame'll understand."

"I hope so for your sake," Tae had muttered, shoving both men out the door. "And as for _you_ Sagara, I expect to see some of that Chinese currency changed over and brought back to me by the end of tomorrow. Understood?"

"So cold!" he'd laughed breezily, not at all intimidated. "I'm back to family names with you now, eh? Don' worry Sekihara-san, I'll pay you back, I will! Ex-streetfighter's honor."

"Oh it's just Tae, you useless lout!" she'd snarled, face reddening. "Just _go_ already!" The restaurant door slammed shut in their faces.

Yahiko had eyed Sano with bleary amusement. "You're gonna end up workin' there at this rate you know."

Sano snorted and started off down the street toward the dojo, hands shoved deep in his trouser pockets. "Me, have a _job_? Don't be absurd."

"Freeloader," Yahiko grumbled. He caught up to Sano easily and the streetfighter smiled at the fact that they were now nearly the same height. Yahiko had no trouble keeping pace with his long strides.

"Guilty as charged, it's a way of life," Sano replied easily. He was feeling quite mellow now, and he was rather happy that Yahiko had finally stopped shouting at him over stupid shit that was ancient news as far as Sano was concerned. He understood his friend's anger, really he did, but shit happened, _life_ happened, and Sano refused to apologize for things he couldn't help. Besides, if he owed anyone an apology it was Kenshin, not Yahiko, and he doubted the former hitokiri would harbor any ill will toward him. From all that Sano had learned since his arrival that morning, the Himura family as a whole had much larger concerns.

Therefore it hadn't taken long for Kenji to crop up in their conversation, and Yahiko had finally deigned to fill him in the rest of what he knew of Kenji's time in Kyoto. Truthfully it left Sano rather stunned. "So what are your thoughts on it then?" he asked finally. Yahiko had stopped and leaned against one of the cherry trees lining the river, also staring out over the dark water. "You think this is really going to help the kid figure out what he wants?"

"I don't know," Yahiko said softly, eyes far away. "Kenji…is a talented fighter, and he knows it. He's got a lot of Kenshin in him. Until he decides why he's fighting though, he's dangerous."

Sano smirked. "Well yeah, but that's not his only problem obviously. That kid's just setting himself up for trouble if he's going to insist on holding himself to that kind of standard. I mean shit, the kind of training Kenshin went through, and the war…there's no comparison to that. Kenji's wrong to think he needs to be like that. Just like I was wrong to think I should be as good as Kenshin."

Yahiko looked over at him in open surprise. Sano stared right back. "Well you wondered why I really left," he said when the younger man didn't respond. "By that point I couldn't stand the thought of him helping me. I'd brought all that crap down on myself, and no way was I going to let it hurt anyone else. It was my problem to deal with. I think you know that."

Yahiko looked away. "You could have explained that to us, afterward, in one of your letters. Instead you just left us wondering. Besides," here he gave Sano a sharp look, "how exactly was that different from running from your problems?"

"I wasn't running you idiot, I was leading those goons elsewhere, away from all of _you_!"

"Sure you were," Yahiko replied softly, not looking away from Sano. "Only I doubt that 'leading' required you to _leave_ the country. For seventeen years."

Sano scowled. "Yeah well, since when have I ever been good with feelings, Yahiko? I mean really, I figured you knew me better than that." Sano kept walking, well aware he hadn't really answered the question, and after a moment he heard Yahiko fall into step behind him. He sighed heavily. "Look, if you really want I'll hang out until Kenshin gets back and we can all sit and have a nice chat about it over tea. Would that make you feel better?" Yahiko only replied with an irritated grunt.

They walked in silence for several more minutes until they reached the dojo gates. Sano stood to one side as Yahiko unlocked the door and slid it open. "Bet the kid's asleep," Sano said quietly as they walked toward the house.

Yahiko frowned. "I'm checking anyway."

Sano looked sharply at him. "Oh come on, you think he wandered off again? Sounds to me like he's learned his lesson, even if he isn't happy about it."

"Then you don't know Kenji," Yahiko said grimly. "Wait here, I'll be right back."

It was only a few minutes before Yahiko was storming back out of the house, looking suddenly quite sober. "He's not in the house, Sano."

"I'm sure he's here somewhere, try the dojo," Sano said quietly. He wasn't feeling quite so mellow anymore. "I'll look in the shed and bathhouse, okay?"

The Kamiya dojo wasn't large, and soon they met up again near the front gate. Yahiko was breathing hard. "Shit, Sanosuke, he isn't here! Where would he have gone?"

"Well," Sano said slowly, eyeing Yahiko's increasingly agitated pacing with concern, "it could be the kid just took a walk you know. He seemed a bit upset when he left."

"_Fuck!_" Yahiko suddenly spat, grabbing his hair. "I shouldn't have let him leave!"

"Dude, you're still drunk, sit down," Sano ordered, grabbing Yahiko by the shoulders and steering him toward the porch.

"No!" Yahiko protested, fighting back. "I have to find him!" He jerked away from Sano's grip and stepped backward. He stumbled almost immediately and fell and Sano darted forward to grab him. Yahiko twisted out of his grasp again and hopped toward the porch, teeth gritted. "Damn it I'm fine, I just tripped on something!" Sano looked at the ground and saw a hammer laying there…the same one Kenji had threatened him with that morning.

Suddenly, it all fell into place. Sano stared at the hammer in dawning horror, his insides clenching. He bent down to pick the tool up and turned toward Yahiko, who was rubbing his foot furiously. "Yahiko."

"What?" he asked irritably. "You have some magic epiphany on where my brother ran away to _this_ time? I've known him for fifteen years, but you know after _one_ day? Okay Sano, _you_ tell me where he ran off to."

"I don't think he ran away," Sano said quietly, still looking at the hammer. "When I was out earlier today," he continued slowly, aware he now had Yahiko's full attention, "a group of thugs tracked me down and tried to get me to tell them where Battousai was. I told them I had no idea what they were talking about, and they attacked. I took out most of them and gave them the slip. They were being led by this nasty little guy, didn't catch his name."

Yahiko's face slowly drained of color, "What…the _fuck_? Why the HELL didn't you say something?!"

"I didn't know they were after the kid," Sano said evenly. "Although…I suppose I should have guessed. When I arrived this morning Kenji attacked me without any provocation. I think he knew about these guys, Yahiko, and I think he thought I might be with them."

Yahiko let out a high, mirthless laugh and leapt to his feet, stalking aggressively toward Sano. "This is so damned typical of you, you know that?"

"What the hell do you mean by that?"

Yahiko gave him a thoroughly incredulous look. "Oh you know what, never mind! You just don't get it, do you? You _never_ got it!"

"What are you talking about?"

Yahiko's face was very flushed and he made an inarticulate noise of anger, apparently having trouble finding words to express his frustration. "_Us_!" he finally exploded. "You never trusted us, you just ran and ran until it caught up with you, than you ran again! What, were you afraid we couldn't handle the news of these guys? I _get_ the other time okay, I was just a kid, fine! That was a hell of a long time ago though Sano, and it's not the same now!"

Sano just stared blankly, for once stunned speechless even as he tried to make sense of Yahiko's rambling. "Dude what the hell? You think I didn't tell you because I thought you couldn't handle it? Yahiko I get attacked _all the damn time_, this was like any other day of the fucking week for me! Now granted, the fact that they wanted Battousai means I should have said something, but this is _Japan_ and more importantly _Tokyo_ and Kenshin's lived here for almost twenty years now! How was I to know how urgent this was? You trying to say that all this time, you guys have been seeing the same kind of craziness that we used to get when we all first met Kenshin? I kind of doubt that!"

Yahiko glared at him, breathing heavily. "So that's why you kept it a big secret? Because you thought it was _unusual_? You should have said something! If I'd known-"

"What? You wouldn't have taken the kid out? You were _already_ out with him and breaking Kaoru's rules, you said so yourself! Don't you dare try to lay all this blame on me when you'd already screwed up _your_ part of it!"

"So what are you trying to say then?" Yahiko snarled.

"I'm saying that if you're going to be pissed at anyone it should be the kid, 'cause _he's_ the one who's been lying to _everyone he knows_ since this whole thing started!" Sano held up the hammer. "He attacked me with this this morning! Who the hell attacks a potential customer to the dojo? Look, I know I don't exactly look like a gentleman, but still, that's no reason to pounce on me the way he did! Yahiko, he _knew_, he knew these guys were around and that they were eventually going to find him. It was just a matter of time. Now why the hell didn't _he_ say anything huh, especially to you! Looks to me like that brat's more like his old man than he wants to admit!"

Yahiko had nothing to say to that. Breathing deeply he reached out and took the hammer, staring at it in pained disbelief. "What the hell was that kid thinking?" he whispered, his hand starting to shake slightly.

Sano shoved his hands deep in his pockets and stared up at the star-strewn sky. "Well we'll just have to ask him when we find him, won't we? You know, before we beat the living crap out of him."

Yahiko laughed despite himself. "Shit, Sano. This is really bad."

"If I hear anything along the lines of 'dead' from you over there, yours will be the first ass I kick," Sano snarled, glaring at him. "We'll find him. This city isn't that big."

Yahiko put the hammer down on the porch. "Fine then, where do we start?"

"Where else do the scum hang out? We'll hit the gambling dens first. I know what these guys look like, we'll find 'em." He clapped Yahiko hard on the shoulder, startling the younger man out of the haunted, despairing look that had come over him. "You probably need to tell Tsubame on the way, huh? She probably won't be happy to be woken up this early."

"This is Kenji, she'll understand," he said quietly. "The Sakabatou's at home anyway." He turned toward the gate, features hardening in determination. "Let's go."

TBC…

* * *

A/N: Look at that, an update in _less_ than 8 months! Perhaps there's hope for me yet? I sure hope so. Anyway next time, Yahiko and Sano play sleuth while Kenji and Taro meet the baddies. Finally! 


	8. Challenge

Clearing Skies

by Calger459

Chapter 8: Challenge

Here we go, the beginning of the end! On with the fic!

* * *

Dry wood. Mold. The sour smell of oil and metal. Kenji struggled to wake up. Something bad had happened, he knew that, but he couldn't recall exactly what. Muddled images and impressions flickered through his mind's eye, behind lids that refused to open. He felt so heavy, so tired. Waking up was so hard. His head felt thick and heavy; a dull pain throbbed behind his eyes, spreading across the back of his head and down into his neck. He was hurt, he didn't know how badly. He tried harder to open his eyes; his body fought him. 

_Stay asleep_, a familiar voice suddenly whispered, its tone soothing and cool. _The danger isn't past yet_, _stay asleep_.

_Father?_ He thought blearily in recognition. A shadow flitted through his mind's eye, swift and sure. A glint of metal in the shadows that was both threatening and comforting. _What danger?_ He asked the shadow.

But there was no answer, and then all was darkness again.

Some hours later, Kenji's awareness stirred again and his eyes finally opened. He sucked in a quick breath at the pain that stabbed behind his eyes, leaving a pounding ache in its wake. Doing his best to ignore the pain he forced himself to concentrate on his surroundings. Wherever he was, it was very dark and cramped. He felt hard wood beneath his left shoulder, and he tried to focus his bleary eyes as he twisted his head to look around. He seemed to be tucked back into a corner of a shed, which was full of crates and boxes.

It took him a moment to realize the slight warmth he felt against his back was another body, presumably also tightly bound. A shifting noise as the body stirred, and the sleepy murmur of a very familiar voice. Kenji's eyes widened. "Taro?" he whispered. _They took both of us?_ "You awake?"

A long pause. The other's breath quickened. Kenji could feel him twisting around, no doubt also trying to get his bearings in the dark space. "Yeah."

Kenji sagged in relief. "We're alive," he breathed, suddenly almost giddy. "You okay?"

"Not really, no," Taro said dully. "My head hurts like hell."

Kenji sighed. "Mine too, guess they hit both of us to knock us out."

An awkward pause. "Did…they say what happened to my family?"

Guilt stabbed at him. He should never have gotten his friend involved in this. "No," Kenji said quietly. "But they didn't come out of the house even with all the noise we made. Maybe your father's just a heavy sleeper?" He tried to inject some levity into his voice, but it sounded false even to his own ears.

Taro didn't say anything immediately. Kenji could feel him working his wrists around in the ropes binding them. After a moment, he seemed to give up. "I really hope you have a plan get us out of this, oh great son-of-Battousai."

Kenji stilled at the accusatory tone in his friend's voice, feeling even more wretched. "I…I'm really sorry I got you into this Taro. It's my fault."

Taro was silent, but he seemed to relax, leaning a little more against Kenji's back. "Yeah, well…what should we do?"

On this Kenji drew a complete blank. He honestly had no idea what to do now. Escape seemed the obvious answer, but then it would all start all over again. The running and the lying and the constant fear, and honestly he was tired of it. "I think…I just need to face these people. This can't keep going the way it's been. I just can't do it anymore."

Taro flexed himself awkwardly into a half-sitting position, using the crates as support. He looked down at Kenji. "You really waited this long to tell anyone these guys were after you? Why? That was so stupid, you should have asked for help! I'm sure Himura-san could have done something about it."

Kenji didn't look at his friend, instead staring fixedly at the crate in front of him, feeling that defiant anger inside him again and hating it, hating his own stupidity. "Yeah, Taro…he could have, but you know what? Knowing him and what he's done before in situations like this, he would have turned himself over to them just to find out what these guys want, and then they would have ripped him apart."

"He's Battousai isn't he? I think he could take care of himself," Taro reasoned evenly, still staring down at him. "It's nice that you wanted to protect your father, Kenji, but really…we're just kids, you know?"

Kenji scowled. Just a kid…yes, he really was. Moreover, had he really wanted to protect his father from his enemies, or had his mother been right? Was he really doing it just for himself? As Kenji lay there, bound and defeated, he realized that he truly didn't know, that in fact he had never known, and his own arrogant actions could possibly now cost Taro his life. His friend had nothing to do with this, and Kenji regretted the moment he'd made the decision to leap over his garden wall. However, it couldn't be helped now.

"Taro," he said quietly, "those guys are going to come for us pretty soon probably. I want you to pretend you don't know anything, all right? I was just hiding at your place for a few minutes, you don't know anything else."

"Well I sort of know who Battousai is now, don't I, since they said it in front of both of us?"

"Doesn't matter," Kenji countered. "I just want to make sure you stay safe, all right?"

Taro frowned down at him. "Kenji…"

Bright sunlight suddenly washed over them from an outside door being thrown open, and boxes were shoved noisily aside. Kenji gasped, instinctively shutting his eyes against the painful light.

"Hey kids," Ryozo greeted. "Sleep well?" Kenji glared hatefully at the man as two of the other swordsmen came into the shed. One focused on Taro, tightening his bindings even further and gagging him. Taro's eyes widened fearfully. "Relax boy," Ryozo said, "keep quiet back here and nothing will happen to you. It's your friend we need." He waved a hand and the second swordsman yanked Kenji to his feet. The teen gasped, head spinning with the sudden movement, and he fought down a wave of nausea from the increased pounding in his skull.

Kenji felt Taro's eyes on him as he was marched to the door. He risked a slight glance back, attempting to look reassuring. Given the way his heart was pounding, it was probably not very effective. The door was shut behind him, cutting off his view of Taro, and he looked forward again. Maybe he could end this peacefully somehow. At the very least, he could convince them to let Taro go.

He was led around a few small outbuildings and across the interior courtyard of a large house. It was probably private, an estate. Kenji wasn't surprised; anyone hired to capture his father would demand high payment. "So who is this guy you're all working for?" he asked, trying to keep his voice casual. "Is this his house?"

"You think we would tell you?" Ryozo snapped, giving him a menacing glare.

"I'm going to tell him the same thing I told you," Kenji said evenly, a strange calm stealing over him now as they stepped up on the raised porch on the far side of the courtyard. _If I can't fight you, I'll outwit you instead._ "What makes you think this is going to work? You can't possibly hope to pass me off as Battousai."

Ryozo just laughed at this. This response filled the teen with a bit of dread; his captors seemed quite confident their ploy would work. Why?

Several winding corridors later and they reached an ornate door, which the thug on Kenji's left side swiftly slid open. "Hayakawa-sama," Ryozo said solemnly, leading Kenji forward by the arm. "We've brought you the hitokiri, my apologies for the delay."

Kenji wasn't sure exactly what he'd been expecting from the mastermind of all this. A big, burly crime boss perhaps or some dignified old rich man. He wasn't quite prepared to see a hopelessly scrawny-looking man with thinning, lank hair sitting on a futon, dressed only in a rumpled yukata, as if he'd just woken up. Kenji stared at him incredulously, for a moment too stunned to speak. Hayakawa had looked up and was peering at Kenji intently; the boy noted how dull his eyes were. One was lazy and seemed to be looking off into a corner of the room. The other was trained on him but was rather unfocused, as if the man couldn't see him clearly.

Kenji continued to stare at the man in silence as he slowly stood up, gathering his loose robe around him. Instead of tying it more securely he merely held it around him and shuffled forward on long, bony feet. The boy recoiled as the man came close, giving off an overwhelming stench of sickness and sweat. "Greetings, Battousai," he breathed, voice strangely high-pitched.

Kenji glanced at Ryozo, who merely stood there, still keeping a firm grip on Kenji's arm. He looked rather smug.

Hayakawa was peering at him almost hungrily, slowly turning his head from side to side, as if trying to get a better view of him. "Well," he said finally. "Have you nothing to say, Battousai? You don't even recognize my name, do you?"

Kenji stared at the man, thinking quickly. This Hayakawa wanted his father…for what reasons exactly he didn't know, though they probably weren't friendly. If he insisted on the truth, that he wasn't Battousai, and this man believed him…then he might kill him and go after his father. In that case, he had no doubt they would kill Taro too. However, if he played along he might be able to find a way to resolve this. _What would Father do?_

Kenji looked again at Ryozo, who was carefully looking elsewhere. "No," Kenji said finally, and truthfully. "I don't remember you. Would you mind telling me why you've brought me here, and by force? You could simply have asked me to come, and I would have."

Kenji now had every person in the room's full attention. Ryozo's men were looking at him in astonishment, shooting furtive, slightly confused looks between themselves and their boss.

Hayakawa's sallow face suddenly broke into a wide, manic grin, exposing several missing teeth. The grin however was malicious rather than pleased. "Shinsengumi," he hissed. "I am Hayakawa Tomo. My older brother Shuichi had just joined them, and you _killed_ him, only a year after we were both orphaned in a fire set by _your_ Choshu clan! That fire damaged my sight, but not my memory or mind! I've been waiting years to bring you here. You will answer for destroying my family!"

_He's blind?_ Sudden understanding washed over him. _No,_ _not totally blind_, he corrected himself. The man could clearly see him, just not well enough to tell that Kenji was far too young to be hitokiri Battousai, among other myriad details. He shot a glare at Ryozo, who was still looking off into another corner of the room. However, his expression was bemused. His unspoken thought was clear: _What will you do now, boy?_

Kenji turned back to his captor. "I was part of a war, and many lives were lost on both sides," he said, trying with all his might to channel his father's calm, reasoning tone that seemed able to quell any temper, no matter how fierce. It certainly worked on his mother. "I regret the loss of your brother, and that you suffered because of it. What exactly do you want from me?" _I have to lie_, he realized as he took in Hayakawa's crazed expression. _He really thinks I'm Battousai; if I denied it that would just make Father look even worse._

"You regret?" Haywakawa murmured disbelievingly. "A man like you cannot _regret_! You'll answer for my brother's life with yours!"

"So you'll kill me yourself then?" Kenji asked with a calm he did not feel. Regardless, he has absolutely no intention of dying in his father's stead. "Surely there's some other way to resolve this, Hayakawa-san."

"No apologies, no money, and definitely no _duel_!" Hayakawa spat. "Do I look capable of fighting?"

"Do _I_?" Kenji countered lightly. "I'm far past my prime as a swordsman, Hayakawa-san. Is that why you waited so long to bring me here? So I would be easier to kill? Hardly honorable actions." _Go ahead and try to fight, you little jerk_, Kenji thought viciously, already tiring of this whole absurd situation. _I'll kick your pathetic ass, these thugs can get their cash, and then everyone will be happy_. Kenji blinked in sudden realization and he shot a sharp look toward Ryozo. _This might be easier than I thought._

"Miserable hitoriki scum," Hayakawa ranted, shaking on his feet and looking like he was about to collapse. "Fujiwara!" Ryozo lifted his head at his name, looking toward his boss expectantly. "Secure the hitokiri. I need to prepare."

"Yes, Hayakawa-sama," Ryozo replied lowly, moving forward to take Kenji's arm again. "Come along, Battousai."

Kenji allowed himself to be led away. It was all he could do to keep silent until they were again outside and striding across the courtyard. He noted with dismay that they weren't taking him back to Taro, but to another part of the complex altogether. He was taken to another small storage shed on the other side of the house and led inside. He expected to be left there, but instead Ryozo shut the door behind him, leaving the two of them alone in the shed. Turning to face his captor, Kenji glared at him suspiciously.

"Well," Ryozo said conversationally, seating himself on a crate, left hand resting casually on the hilt of his katana. "That went rather well, don't you think? I noticed that you decided to play along after all. You're a smart kid."

"That shouldn't surprise you," Kenji stated coolly, staring down at bounty hunter. "You apparently researched me well enough before starting all this."

"What makes you think that?" Ryozo asked pleasantly, clearly amused.  
_  
_"Everything about this from the start," Kenji said slowly, suddenly feeling abominably foolish. "You knew that I hadn't told my father…would not tell him."

Ryozo tilted his head. "Not really, though I must admit that was helpful. I had plans in place in case you blabbed to your parents. It's true though, what I had observed of you before told me that I really didn't have too much to worry about. You seem to have way too much pride for that, even if your skill leaves a little bit to be desired."

Kenji bristled slightly at that, but chose to ignore the jibe. "You never bothered to mention that the reason Hayakawa believed you all along was because he was blind."

"Only half-blind. He can see well enough to get around."

"Lucky for you," the boy said pointedly, unable to hide his disgust any longer. "I suppose the plan then is to somehow wrap this up before my father has a chance to know about it, you get paid and my friend and I go free?"

Ryozo raised a slightly surprised eyebrow at him. "Now kid, for a moment you had me believing you were _smart_. No one said anything about freedom. You heard the boss, he plans to kill you. In fact we don't get paid until that happens, as for your friend…well that remains to be seen."

Kenji's heart clenched. Anger and fear fought in his chest, and he couldn't keep a soft, furious hiss escaping his clenched teeth. "That's ridiculous, you did your part! You must know where the man's money is, take what you need and let us go! We'll tell the police and have this crazy idiot arrested. Everyone wins then!"

"Hmm except the part where you've seen what we all look like, and heard my name," Ryozo said silkily. "I can't have you endangering my operations, little boy. I have no intention of letting your father find any of us."

"I won't say anything," Kenji said anxiously. "You know that! If I was going to tell I would have already done it. Help me resolve this and I won't say a word about you to anyone, not even the cops. I'll just go home, and it'll be like it never happened!"

Ryozo sighed wearily and stood up. "Kid, I'd love to believe you, I really would. But I honestly don't give a shit if you live or die at this point. Besides which, that Sagara friend of your father's saw us as well, and that complicates things a bit."

This took a moment to register with Kenji. "He…what? When was this?"

"Yesterday," Ryozo groused irritably. "I tell you what kid, I've never had a boss quite like this one. Hayakawa's an idiot through and through, he even insisted on going with us on _my_ job. I mean seriously, who goes along with their hired men and gets themselves seen by the enemy? When you hire people like me it's so you can keep your nose clean while the work gets done _for_ you. That's how this is supposed to work, but no, the jerk made us confront the guy minute we laid eyes on him instead of letting him be like we should have." He shook his head, clearly disgusted. Kenji just stared numbly straight ahead, not really seeing the bounty hunter before him. He remembered now how harried Sagara had seemed once he'd finally arrived at the Akabeko to meet them, clothes even more filthy and torn then they had been just a few hours earlier at the dojo. It was as if he'd just been in a fight...and of course now Kenji knew that's exactly what it had been. Sagara had known about these men. He'd known, but said nothing.

"So…" he ventured, "Sagara isn't one of your men?"

Ryozo actually laughed at this. He stood up, taking a decidedly menacing step toward Kenji. "Of course he isn't, you stupid brat. Asshole took out _three_ of my guys and their weapons; I damn well don't trust this Sagarato keep his silence!" He loomed over Kenji now, seemingly satisfied by the naked fear he saw in the boy's eyes. "You're done, Himura Kenji. Sorry it had to be this way, but business is business. Don't even think of trying to escape here either, your buddy the archer is right outside to make sure of that, and I _will_ kill your friend if you try anything. See ya." With one final self-satisfied grin, Ryozo sauntered to the door and let himself out, leaving Kenji standing in the windowless darkness of the shed.

The teenager slowly sank to the floor, mind blank, his insides cold.

* * *

Yahiko half-ran through the winding Tokyo streets toward his apartment, Sano jogging easily beside him. The former streetfighter ignored the lingering effects of the alcohol in his system. He figured Yahiko was doing a bit worse than him; the younger man wove slightly as he ran, face flushed, the occasionally drop of sweat flying off his spiked hair. Sano knew this was due more to his anxiety over Kenji than the sake. Inwardly he balked in amazement at what seemed to be emerging as a Himura family trait; attracting the worst sort of trouble, and then keeping all the responsibility for it firmly on one's own shoulders, if even it killed you. _Stupid stupid kid_, he thought sourly. At the same time though, he couldn't help feeling a little bit of guilty pleasure over the situation; this was the most action he'd seen in quite some time, and for once the threat wasn't directed at him. 

Yahiko turned down another street, and then finally slowed to a panting stop. Sano looked up at the two-story apartment. "This it?" Yahiko nodded and dug out his key, unlocking the door and sliding it open. He stood by to let Sano through, leading the way up the narrow stairs to the second floor. The apartment was actually fairly spacious by Tokyo standards, with a large living and sleeping area, and Sano could see immediately why his friend needed the space: curled on tiny futons on the tatami flooring were two young children, no more than five years old. He shot Yahiko a pleasantly surprised look as he knelt carefully over what had to be the sleeping form of Tsubame. "These yours, man?"

"Yes," Yahiko hissed impatiently. "Yuusuke and Minako, don't wake them up. Tsubame-chan, I'm sorry, please wake up."

Tsubame groaned slightly and peered up at her husband, confused. "Yahiko, what…"

Sano couldn't hear the rest of the whispered exchange, but he saw Tsubame send him a shocked glance. He could barely see her in the early morning darkness, but he gave her a friendly wave anyway. "Hey there Tsubame-san, it's been a long time."

She sat up, trying anxiously to flatten her hair, which was still cut in the same short bob he remembered from when she was a girl. He saw her shoot Yahiko an irritated look and he couldn't help but smile. No woman liked being caught unawares like this. Her expression softened immediately into one of worry though, and Yahiko quickly stepped past her and ducked in another room. He came out with the familiar Sakabatou in hand, face grim. Tsubame stood at the edge of the tatami, giving Sano an anxious look. "Please find him," she whispered, and Sano was amazed by how little her voice has changed from what he remembered.

"Don't worry, we will," he said gently. "We'll back soon."

"Yahiko, the police?" she asked uncertainly, clutching at the neck of her sleeping yukata.

Yahiko glanced at Sano. "They could be helpful, but if we do then this will definitely get back to Kenshin."

Tsubame glanced between them, expression tightening. "I would think Kenji's life is more important than keeping even more secrets."

"Even if his standing in the school is ruined forever?" Yahiko asked quietly, meeting his wife's gaze. "Besides, just the two of us would be better. I don't want these guys panicking and killing Kenji to cover their escape."

Tsubame looked stricken at this, but didn't argue further. "If I don't hear from you by this evening, I'll go to the police."

Yahiko nodded, and brushed his hand briefly across her face. "Take care, Love."

Sano followed Yahiko to the door, giving his own nod to her. "I'll keep 'em both safe."

Tsubame smiled at him, closing the door gently behind them.

Outside, Sano waited for Yahiko to secure the Sakabatou at his waist. "So how does it feel to use that thing?"

"Heavy," Yahiko said grimly. Sano blinked at the odd response, but didn't question it. He suspected Yahiko didn't mean the weight of the sword. "So, where to?"

"Gambling halls first," Sano said confidently, leading the way toward the poorer districts of Tokyo. "Tsubame didn't seem too shocked by all this. You guys seriously have plans in place if someone goes missing?"

Yahiko glanced at him from the corner of his eye. "This is Kenshin's world we exist in. You know how it is."

Sano sighed. "Yeah. Guy runs with a tough crowd, and Kenji's learning that first hand I'll bet. If none of these guys are in the gambling halls then we're gonna have to get creative."

"None of them spoke when they attacked you?" Yahiko asked disbelievingly. "Didn't let slip a name we could use?"

Sano searched his memory. "No, they really didn't. They've been pretty smart about this whole operation."

"So they must be a professional mercenary group. Bounty hunters."

Sano nodded. "Yeah, high profile too, to agree to take out Kenshin."

Yahiko frowned thoughtfully. "Guys like that don't get work without spreading their name around. They shouldn't be that hard to find."

Sano grinned. "Just have to ask the right questions. No worries, my friend."

The two men walked briskly, but it still took a good half hour to reach the more run-down districts of the city. Yahiko wasn't quite as familiar with these neighborhoods, and he trailed behind Sano as he scouted out the mostly likely places to begin. "These places are always changing around," he explained as they moved through the dark streets. It was past four in the morning now but the houses around them were still alive with noise: shouting, jeering, and the clink of glasses, broken by the occasional high-pitched laugh of a woman. Sano passed several of these dingy buildings before finally choosing one. "I used to come to this one a lot," he said quietly, "but I doubt it's being run by the same people these days. Even so, we could get lucky." He placed his hand on the door and looked over at Yahiko. "You look kinda nervous. You can hang out here if you want."

Yahiko snorted. "Don't be stupid, I've had to come here and take care of cheap thugs before."

"Really?" Sano asked, eyebrows lifting. "That standard business for a dojo master?"

"It is when the cops come to you for help all the time," Yahiko said with a sigh. "Though I'll admit it's been a while since the last time."

"Wow that's sad; the cops are even more pathetic than I remember. Glad we didn't bother calling on them." Sano rolled his eyes and slid open the door, stepping through with swaggering confidence. Yahiko followed.

The interior of the low building was dimly lit and smoky, the air thick with the smell of alcohol and unwashed bodies. Several groups of men were seated in circles on the tatami flooring, laughing and joking as they tossed dice, small piles of coins continuously changing hands.

Several heads turned as they entered. Sano gave a jovial wave and wandered over to one of the smaller groups. "Yo, mind if we join you guys?"

The gamblers looked the two of them over in silence for a minute. Sano had no doubt Yahiko's finer cut of clothes threw them slightly, though all the running about they'd been doing all night had left them somewhat dingy and rumpled. The Sakabatou wasn't a concern; nearly every one of these men has a weapon of some sort sitting next to them. One look at Sanosuke though, and they seemed reassured. _Kenji's going to be grateful that I look like such a thug later. I'll make sure he knows it._

The men expanded their circle and let them sit. Sano sat casually, legs crossed in front of him. Glancing over, he saw Yahiko settling into a more formal _seiza_, legs tucked neatly under him. _Shit, he's gonna give us away._Sighing mentally over Yahiko's obvious better upbringing, Sano nudged him, palm open. "Coins, man."

Yahiko stared at him. "Excuse me?"

"Hurry!" Sano hissed, digging his own Chinese currency out of his pockets and plunking it down in front of him. "Sorry guys," he said apologetically, "just got back in town today, haven't found a money changer yet."

"I guess your friend's pretty new at this too," one of the gamblers said dubiously.

"First-timer, yeah," Sano said cheerfully, ignoring Yahiko's irritated look. "Finally got him away from that wife of his!"

An appreciative round of laugher went around the circle at this and the ice seemed to be broken. Dice started rolling and Sano settled in comfortably, delighted to be back in one of his old haunts again. It had been far too long. "So," he said after a few rounds, "I haven't been in Tokyo for awhile, but I heard there was some good bounty business going around. You guys know anything about it?"

Yahiko tensed beside him and Sano shot him a warning look. _This is my game, kiddo. Stay out of it._ "Why?" one of the guys asked, considering his shrinking pile of coins. "You lookin' to off someone?"

"Hmm, not immediately. More I just need him found. Owes me some favors. You guys know how that is."

One of the other men gave a snort of agreement and tossed the dice. "Damn straight. Women, business, or money?"

"All three as it turns out," Sano said with a wicked grin. "You got anyone you can recommend?"

The man who'd tossed the dice looked over at the silent Yahiko, expression thoughtful despite the several empty shou of sake littered around him. "I'm guessing your friend here's in on this business of yours?"

"Heh, yeah, it's kinda complicated. He's the one who'll be footing this particular bill though, so I want to make sure it's quality, you know? We need some good guys."

Two of the other men exchanged looks. "Fujiwara, you think?"

"Hmm."

"Fujiwara who?" Sano asked carefully. The dice had passed to him and he tossed them, holding any more questions until the coins had finished changing hands again. "There're a lot of Fujiwara's in this city you know."

"First name's Ryozo I think," the other guy said. "He's expensive as they get, but he's got a good group I hear."

"Where do we find them?" Yahiko asked quietly. It was the first time he'd spoken, and all movement in the circle paused for a moment. Sano hastily passed the dice.

The two men across the circle were looking slightly uneasy. "It's sensitive business, obviously," Sano said reassuringly to them. "Sorry about that, guys; my friend's just having a rough night."

Smiles spread around again, and at Sano's sidelong look Yahiko managed one of his own finally. Before long they had a location, an estate in the best neighborhoods in Tokyo, not far from the palace. Sano gave an appreciative whistle at this. "So you do just walk up to this place and knock on this guy's door or what?"

A few queries later and Sano had a roundabout means of contact with this so-called Fujiwara Ryozo, though of course he and Yahiko had no intention of using it. They continued to play dice for another hour, making casual conversation. He could feel Yahiko growing increasingly impatient at his side, though he seemed to realize that any rapid exits from this place could be disastrous. Places like these were far more deadly business than pleasure, and Sano was relieved that his younger friend was finally old enough to understand that.

At last they left, stopping on a bridge some distance away from the gambling dens. In the distance they could see the emperor's palace rising on a hill in the center of the city, gas lamps glowing brightly around it. Dawn was coming, the eastern sky growing brighter by the minute. "I don't think they would have done anything to the kid yet, Yahiko," he said, resting a hand on the swordsman's shoulder. "We'll find him and bring him home."

"Sano…thank you," Yahiko said after a long, awkward pause. "For all your help. I couldn't have gotten this information by myself."

Sano looked at him curiously. "Surely that isn't an _apology_ I'm hearing?"

Yahiko, seemingly amused, finally looked Sano in the eye. "Of course not. Let's go."

TBC…

A/N: Heh, once again the chapter started with Kenji and ended with Yahiko. Next time will be a little more…mixed, I think. 'tis grand finale time! Only two or three chapters to go :D


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